


Weaving strings into nets, hoping they'll catch us when we fall.

by Leni_licious



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Canon Compliant, Fantastic Racism, Gen, Genderfluid Loki (Marvel), Jotunn Loki (Marvel), Loki (Marvel)-centric, Loki POV, Might add more tags later, Post-Thor: Ragnarok (2017), Self-Harm, Shapeshifter Loki (Marvel), Thor (Marvel) is a Good Bro, but they're trying, i know this is rated teen and up but there will be additional warnings if needed, loki and val have issues, nobody is really okay, the hulk doesn't kill loki on sight
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:55:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 80,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24456292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leni_licious/pseuds/Leni_licious
Summary: Ragnarok has happened, and nobody is too happy about it.Set between the end of the world at Thor: Ragnarok and Infinity War, this covers the several months spent aboard the Ark. This period bears witness to the struggle of the remaining Asgardians to rebuild some semblance of their lives, the beginning of Thor Odinson's reign, and the time which could be the deciding factor in the fate of the universe - all whilst the threat of Thanos hangs over Loki's head.Still, there might be something positive in all this.
Relationships: Bruce Banner & Brunnhilde | Valkyrie, Bruce Banner & Heimdall, Bruce Banner & Loki, Brunnhilde | Valkyrie & Heimdall (Marvel), Brunnhilde | Valkyrie & Loki (Marvel), Brunnhilde | Valkyrie & Thor (Marvel), Heimdall & Loki (Marvel), Heimdall & Thor (Marvel), Loki & Thor (Marvel)
Comments: 168
Kudos: 239





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome, Reader.
> 
> This is a "little" something I've been working on for the last two or three months, all on a trusty word document which is quickly becoming very confusing to navigate.
> 
> I have several short first chapters ready, and I've written the ending, but apart from that we're in open waters with nowhere to go should this ship capsize with too many threads.
> 
> Hope you enjoy this short-ish chapter, don't forget to comment if you so wish!
> 
> Edit, 1st March 2021: Oh dear this writing has AGED. Ahhh I'm rereading because I've forgotten what has happened and... my Norns, doesn't this make me cringe. At least that's a sign of improvement?

_“I’m here.”_

Loki repeated these words over and over to himself as he clutched at Thor’s torn cape, using their certainty to fill up the empty spaces inside him where all he had had had been torn out of him, leaving him bleeding wounds no one else could see. Thor’s arms enveloped him and squeezed so hard he was going to be heaving for air shortly. For now, he lost himself in the feeling, a bit dizzy. A part of him remarked that Thor had been treated by a healer – that was important, but it was lost in the dark as he shut his eyes, the familiar gesture, if more desperate than ever before, the scent that had been around him his whole childhood.

When they finally broke apart, Loki briefly stumbled, as if his fractured soul was making his body dissolve too. Thor caught him, steadying him as he recovered and bringing his head up to face him. Loki swallowed and hoped it hadn’t been visible. Instead of a rebuke for his actions, however, Thor gave him a small, sad, smile.

“Thank you.” He whispered. Loki lurched, and he could see in the way Thor looked at him that his hadn’t been the intended reaction.

 _“Thank me?”_ He couldn’t help the indignant note in his voice. “What have I done, except destroy our home-“

“You did it at my behest. I do not hold you responsible for that.” Loki caught the slight emphasis at the end. How much did Thor hold his responsible for? His breathing quickened. Would he cage him to ensure he wouldn’t run off, perhaps he had some more of those _Obedience Disks_ , and Loki shuddered at the very thought, or he was going to-

“Loki. You’re thinking too much again.” Thor’s steady voice broke through his thoughts. “Breathe, slowly.” Loki couldn’t help but to obey – had he replaced one master with another? (It’s all you ever seem to do) “I’m not going to keep you here if you do not wish it.” It was almost an exact mirror of his thoughts. Loki shifted uncomfortably at the perceptiveness. One fear replaced another and he was suddenly very, _very_ afraid. If Thor didn’t press him to stay here, did this mean he didn’t need Loki? That he’d finally outgrown him? He wasn’t needed, he wasn’t wanted-

“Loki.” He flinched. Thor grimaced but pressed on. “It means a lot to me that you chose to come back to us.” Loki met his eyes, startled. Once again, he didn’t know how to deal with _this_ \- this _changed_ Thor. “I understand that leaving you there was a sure a way as any to push you away forever, but you came back for us. I will not press you to explain – or talk – if you do not wish it, but I want to mend the chasm between us. Before, when I said this, you laughed in my face. The last 6 years have changed us both, but I hold a hope that it was a necessary change, for _both_ of us.” Loki felt some tension bleed out of him, relief almost palpable.

“May I go?” He asked blurrily. A moment later, he realised the way that may sound. But he didn’t intend to leave, not anymore – if that had ever been his intention in finding Thor aboard the ship, anyway. He hoped Thor knew that, because he wasn’t sure how to articulate it, nor did he feel like disgracing himself and knocking his walls down even further than he already had. _One day, maybe…_ He pushed it away.

“Of course.” Loki turned to leave. “I do not mean to push you, Loki, but our people-“ Good, so Thor hadn’t misunderstood then.

“I know,” Loki said softly, “I shall go to them. Pray for my well-being and safety, brother; the Hulk is loose.” He tried for a jest, hoping that Thor wouldn’t suddenly get afraid for his ‘ _safety_ ’ and rush to stop him.

“I shall join you shortly.” His brother’s voice echoed behind him.

Yes, it was all good.

All was not good. The majority of Asgard’s population was crowded into the large hull of the ship – reminiscent of a castle’s main hall, Loki supposed it might be comforting.

Heimdall was propped up on the side of a crate, looking like he really didn’t want to be there and would rather be helping the few Asgardians attempting to create at least a semblance of order. Loki considered avoiding him; he didn’t want to face him knowing he’d seen exactly what Loki had done in the vaults with Surtur’s Crown (It’d looked like a weird eyebrow but Loki hadn’t commented on the naming). Thor claimed it was okay because he’d told him to, but Loki upon further thought had decided that it looked rather like he was unable to do anything but follow orders – a weakness. He had enough of those already.

After a moment of standing there, lost, Loki accidentally made eye contact. There was no getting out of it now, was there? He paced over.

“Loki,” Heimdall greeted him evenly with a nod. It was painfully familiar, and for a moment Loki could pretend that he was just going to the Observatory to share some new working or discuss some sort of planetary event he’d heard about. The sheen of sweat on Heimdall’s forehead as his wounds were addressed proved otherwise.

“Greetings, Heimdall.” Loki was aware it sounded distant, but at the moment, taking it all in, so was he.

“I see you have chosen not to abandon us in our time of need,”

Loki indulged the urge to laugh. It didn’t come out nearly as ugly as some laughs he’d had, so that was okay. “Indeed I haven’t.”

Heimdall’s golden eyes when they met his again were filled with intent.

“I am most exultant that you have stayed. I was much aggrieved when I saw what had become of you when you finally uncloaked yourself – or were uncloaked – on Midgard.”

“Shouldn’t this be a conversation to be had in private?” Loki asked peevishly, an unpleasant trickle running down his spine as he thought about _that whole mess_ for the first time in what felt like years.

“I just wanted to clear the air between us; I forgive you for turning me into an icicle and the banishment was well-deserved. Could you _\- ahh,_ ” Heimdall cut off with a gasp that reminded Loki of his injury. He tapped the medic? healer? random passer-by? on the shoulder. The young man looked up at him, startled.

“Your Highness-“

“Shhhh. I’ll take care of this one, go somewhere to help someone more gravely injured.” A groan split the air. “Shouldn’t be difficult.” Loki remarked with a sense of foreboding. _How the Hel were they going to manage?_ The man spent a couple more seconds staring at him, then got to his feet and jogged off. Loki knelt by Heimdall and took his place.

“Loki-“

“Shush to you too, how long were you going to pretend you were fine?” Loki reprimanded him sharply, before remembering who he was talking to.

“Prince Loki, I was never pretending-“

“We’ve been on this ship how many hours now?” Loki demanded, examining the injury. Behind the knee, it broke a couple key blood vessels, was probably made by a rusty sword, and boy didn’t it look awful? He didn’t wait for Heimdall to respond, only said “You are damn lucky you haven’t bled out yet.”

“I am aware, Your Highness.”

“ _Good_ ,” Loki snapped. “So you’d better appreciate this.”

He summoned his magic and drew it out of himself and into the wound, letting the cells repair themselves rapidly and sealing it shut. He cast a quick spell to purge any remnants of rust or infection. That left him briefly dizzy, and Loki reminded himself that this had been only one injury out of hundreds. He suspected it would still be sore, and so sent out a blast of ice to numb it. As a special favour to Heimdall. Because he sure as Hel wasn’t going to be flaunting being a Frost Giant around anyone else. He looked at Heimdall, waiting. He got the hint, good old (how old _was_ Heimdall?) Heimdall.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Loki said briskly, standing up and remembering that he himself was sore. He pulled Heimdall up and sent a pulse of energy around himself as soon as he let go, soothing the aches of several dozen bruises and small cuts. He’d been _lucky_.

“And now,” Heimdall said, “Let’s get to work.”

“It is a testament to the lack of organisation here that you were allowed to stay untreated for as long as you did.” Loki agreed, in his typical twisted and convoluting way with words.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When almost everybody is dead, there aren't exactly many trained healers running about. Which means Loki has to run around instead of them.
> 
> In which Loki wishes he weren't so tired.

Loki stayed up all night. The wounded were in the hundreds (but not thousands, no, there weren’t enough of them left for that) and they had to prioritise. Loki called together every person he saw to have some degree of healing skill, missing Eir and with a pang realising that she was dead. They used supplies found on board (pitifully small) and those that Loki brought forth from his pockets of space. At least he’d been cautious enough in his youth to have enough for a small army. This wasn’t an army; it was the remnants of his only home.

Heimdall saw to finding the wounded and bringing them to a corner that they’d designated for healing, clearing some indignant citizens from where they’d started to settle down to sleep. Of course, the night was artificial, but he’d seen to it that it matched Asgard’s cycles to at least attempt making sleeping easier. He had no illusions that it would help him.

Thor joined them less than half an hour after Loki himself, and he was in no small amount envious of the way the people lit up when they saw him. _He’s their King_ , his only voice of reason left reminded him, _it’s only normal that they’d look to him for reassurance._ Loki _knew_ that was it. A part of him still whispered _it’s because they know you are a monster_.

He started off by briefly conferring with Heimdall, about what Loki could not say; he was busy fixing someone’s absolutely shattered right arm, and nursing his own growing headache. In the end, Thor went off, starting to help his people – _their_ people – bed down.

Valkyrie (Brunnhilde, a voice whispered insistently) was nowhere to be found, so Loki assumed she’d found a bar, or at least a stash of alcohol. Yeah, that was something they had to work on.

The Hulk was no better. _He_ wasn’t missing, and that was the problem. He was sitting somewhat quietly in a corner, and whilst Loki was glad he wasn’t causing chaos a part of him worried that he wasn’t only a creature of anger anymore; would Banner come forth or was he gone forever? That dug at Loki’s mind before he shoved it away. Compartmentalise. Move on. Ignore him staring at you. _Right_ at you.

At some point, he took a break, cursing the dimmed lighting as he paced the ship looking to ease his headache and searching for where the food rations were kept. Nobody had eaten for over 6 hours at this point, and whilst some had taken food on board with their belongings it all went to keeping the children quiet. Ah, yes, the children. The orphans were countless. Literally, because they hadn’t gotten around to seeing who had survived, and who had not. Loki could only hope no child had run off, and that some parents were looking after those not of their own flesh and blood. So far, no one had died on board, so that was a plus, but it was mostly due to his magical intervention (with a sinking heart he realised that none of the mages or trained sorcerers had survived. He was the only one, now. So much for all the petty rivalries of his youth, trying to outperform those older than him, usually ending up in disaster for one or all parties involved. The loss hit him like a stone.), and was the leading source of his exhaustion-created headache.

He wished to disappear, to have someone else sort this out, but _no_. He had a responsibility over these people now, and it was not one he could take lightly. No, he would show them.

Most were complete strangers, a few he knew by name, some had seen him paraded around the streets muzzled like an animal – but that was in the past. Loki forced down the strong resentment that rose up even now. It didn’t matter. What was done was _done_. What _wasn’t_ done was his _work_. His duty to these – _his_ – people. They didn’t regard him with repulsion, he mused, wandering into a storage room he’d used magic to pry open. He’d felt them watching him; some more warily than other, and knew exactly what his reputation entailed. But no one said anything, only guided him to another patient to fix, and he _saw_ that gratitude in their eyes and _drank it in_ , because it had been _so long_. So he was enjoying playing the Saviour, a little bit.

His efforts were rewarded. Food Rations. Thousands upon thousands. He sent out a burst of magic, let his semi-sentient tendrils of thought and energy count them. 90,000 packs in this room. That would last them a while, even if this was the only stash of food in this place. He checked the packets, made sure they were safe to eat. He wondered why the Grandmaster would have this sort of thing lying around. It wasn’t like he let anyone off his planet. Whatever. Maybe this ship had dropped in like this.

Loki selected a couple crates. He used his magic to lift them, and made his way back to the hall.

“Food!” He announced, letting them drop unceremoniously to the floor. His arrival was greeted by half-hearted cheering. A woman – one of the first to have started organising things – came over.

“It needs to be heated up and doused with water,” Loki told her without preamble. “If you haven’t already, I would send someone to find a water supply which provides clear water.” She had been following until that point, now her eyes clouded with confusion.

“Clear water?” She asked. “As opposed to what, red water?”

Loki realised that almost everyone here had no experience with ships.

“No, grey.” She stared at him. Loki resisted the urge to roll his eyes, knowing the gesture wouldn’t be welcome. “Clear water is drinking water, fit for lifeform consumption. Grey water is filtered water, which you get in showers, or for agriculture – if there _are_ such facilities on board –“ He added when her face lit up, “and you should almost certainly never drink it unless all water supplies are down critically and needed for healing.” He remembered Hela’s spike. There was no apparent damage to the engines but… He hoped it hadn’t pierced anything vital. He’d have to fix that. (The hole(s?), not the part that nothing vital was damaged, he also lived here, thank you very much.) In the end, he only added “I sure _hope_ there’s nothing that’s been on this ship with a flow that bad as to stain the entire water supply red.” The woman’s lips quirked.

“One can always rely on your sense of humour, Prince Loki.” She said, somewhat warmly if not a bit dry. Loki liked this woman.

“What is your name?” He asked, certain now that she’d surely be one of those that would help lead them, then added for the sake of it: “I’m sorry if I didn’t catch it.” They both had known it hadn’t been relevant.

“Kaysa, Your Highness. I wish that we may have the privilege to speak again, once things are a bit less… hectic.”

“I hope so too. All the best to you at your newly designated station.” Loki said, leaving her in charge of the several thousand packets he’d brought with him. He needed to get back to work.

\---------------------------------------

“Loki,” Thor’s voice behind him made him jump as he was attempting closing a stomach wound.

“What,” He ground out, decidedly grumpy. He sent energy to the edges of the wound, willing it to knit itself together. This sort of thing was above his paygrade, and he was glad that Thor remained silent as he attempted to at least stop the worst of the bleeding. At least the woman hadn’t been pregnant; Loki couldn’t handle a sobbing mess right now and didn’t wish to be reduced to one either.

The gut had been damaged, and he was _trying_ to do something about it, he swore he was, but it was harder to fix someone else than to piece his own torn body back together; back then, he’d been in practice, and on top, he knew how everything was _meant_ to feel. Here, it was mostly guesswork. He was good at it, until he wasn’t and someone died.

He waited until the outer layer of skin was healed and then pressed his hands gently to the wound where he knew a lot of internal bleeding was still going on. He could feel Thor watching as he sent tendrils of magic inside her. Loki closed his eyes and guided the flesh back to normalcy, letting it stitch itself back up using his energy as the threads. _Yeah, not very usual is it?_ He wanted to ask. He didn’t. Thor didn’t know shit about healing anyway. He used a pulse of power to ensure it would hold together until her body could repair it properly. He told her so, and the young man at her side, in case she wasn’t coherent enough to understand.

Loki turned to look up at Thor, still kneeling. “What is it,”

“You need to rest.” He said, the words abrupt to Loki’s ears. “Come with me, we’ll find you a corner and a blanket-“

“Rest? _Rest?_ ” The laugh came out hysterical. “Thor, I can’t _rest_. I’ve started doing this now, and there’s still more people waiting, and if I don’t do it some will die, and it’ll be on me, and believe me I don’t need any more guilt-”

“I know,” Thor said, surprisingly softly. “I never expected you to accept. But I wanted you to know that at least someone _tried_.” The emphasis caught Loki’s attention.

“Huh?”

“That’s the deal with you, isn’t it?” Thor offered him a hand to his feet, which he accepted. “You’re scared that we don’t care, that we are happy to just let you destroy yourself. I know-“ He added when Loki showed signs of interrupting, “That you are not doing this in an attempt to hurt yourself, but we both know that by the end you’ll be completely drained. I have not forgotten you, Loki, and when you’ve judged by your own conscience that you’ve done enough, come to me and I’ll make sure you can rest somewhere safe. Okay?”

“Okay,” Loki nodded, too tired to try and find out where this came from.

\--------------------------------------------

It was around the 4 am mark when he sought out Thor. He found him, unfortunately enough, conversing with the Hulk. He hoped the creature wouldn’t see him as a threat, because Loki was almost too tired to function, let alone try and evade his attacks.

“Thor,” He slurred, unable to keep his voice clear. His brother turned and did a double take at the sight of him.

“Loki! You look… um, awful.” Loki would have laughed at his tone, but instead his body decided to pitch him forward, knees buckling. Thor caught him, because of course he did, and Loki had to resort to clinging on to him and staring at him in desperation before Thor grasped that he didn’t want to be lowered to the floor next to the _Hulk_. Instead, Thor did the next most-Thor thing Loki could think of and scooped him up, carrying him bridal style. He felt as if he were being offered to the Hulk. He said so.

“Hulk no want Puny God.” He heard in response. It still made him clench to hear it – him – speak, but at least now displeasure could be communicated without the need to touch him.

“That’s good,” He heard himself murmur, relaxing in Thor’s arms. He couldn’t help it, he told himself, he was just so goddamn _tired_ , so- so _ready_ to _forget_ what had just happened. He thought he heard a _Goodnight Puny God_ as Thor turned away and he with him.

Thor took him to a room not too far from the hall. Loki shook himself as Thor placed him on his feet, and started calling on his magic-

“No, Loki don’t waste it.” He heard. He looked at Thor; startled. “I promised you I’d bring you somewhere safe, didn’t I?” Thor asked. Loki remembered him saying that. Okay. _Fair enough._

He bent down to unlace his boots and then reflexively began to strip off his clothes before remembering _the scars_ and just snapping his fingers instead. His leathers melted off to be replaced with a dark tunic he sometimes used for sleeping.

He stumbled on his way to the bed and was perhaps _too_ grateful that Thor held the covers open while he slipped in, and tucked him in firmly. He looked at Thor expectantly.

“Goodnight Loki.”

“What, no goodnight kiss?” Loki quipped, half joking. Thor leaned in and kissed his forehead. Loki let his eyes flutter closed. “Goodnight Thor.” He felt his brother pause, and then heard the door close lightly. Thor’s footsteps faded as he walked away. Loki realised belatedly that he hadn’t asked whether Thor would sleep. Ah well, he trusted Thor could take care of himself. Loki drew out an arm and snapped the lights off.

He breathed in the cool air of the ship before wriggling deeper into the sheets. It made him feel more at ease, alone in the dark. He needed to wake up early tomorrow – _or is it considered today?_ Help Thor-

Loki yawned and cut his thoughts off, turning to lie on his side, back to the wall. He pressed against it, yearning for its solidity, and then felt himself go limp as his muscles simply refused to respond. He slumped into the bed and felt the tension of the last few weeks bleed out. It was pleasant, doing this without the aid of spiked cocktails and drugs.

He let the darkness come and take him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki freshens up, and then uses up a lot of energy. No makeup is put on. Thor is stressed. The Hulk and Loki find themselves in an enclosed space. Thoughts about hair. Not necessarily in that order.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Longest chapter yet, hooray!
> 
> You should know that I'm burning through these pre-written words a lot faster than I can write them, so daily updates aren't going to be a thing for long, I'm afraid.
> 
> Thank you all for the comments, I really appreciate them <3
> 
> See notes at the end for a slight spoiler for the chapter if squeamish. (Or don't, I wouldn't say it's too bad, as a squeamish person myself.)

He woke up screaming. Of course he did. Why had he thought that sleep was going to be any safer on this ship that the rest of the universe? Surely it wasn’t just his proximity to _Thor_ , was it? Thor, who had always ( _never_ ) protected him, who he could ground himself on ( _who ignored you, outshone you_ ), whom he could _trust_ – _He left you on the floor writhing in agony_. Okay fine, admittedly Thor wasn’t nearly as safe as what Loki needed. But Thor was Thor and Loki had gotten attached so he really had to accept at this point that for now neither of them was going anywhere. ( _Not that you have any place to go_.)

Getting out of bed was bothersome. So bothersome that Loki seriously (and to his disgust) considered just not getting up. Snarling at himself, he flung the covers off and sat up on the side of the bed, flexing his hands. He couldn’t stifle a yawn as he pulled on his boots (his _very_ nice custom boots. Thanks, bank account) and ran his fingers absently through his hair. He grimaced as they stuck in tangles. He was going to have to find a bathroom to freshen up in. Unfortunately this room didn’t seem to have one. ( _Well, I’m not staying here then_.) His mind was already ticking away, the general consensus being: _Bathroom situation=bad. Need to sort out rooms – first we need to count everyone. Water. Money. Repair ship ASAP. Find therapists?_ He was stubbornly going to ignore the massive problem of the Tesseract until everything was settled. His magic acted as a good-enough muffler for the signature for now. And he didn’t want to face the consequences. ( _As always, coward. It’s not going to change anything_.)

Loki opted to stay in the clothes he’d slept in until he could find a hopefully unoccupied place to fix his appearance. It wouldn’t do for the people to see him like this, however – not very good for morale, to see one’s Prince looking bedraggled and defeated – so he cast a quick glamour. Just filling in the shadows he knew would be on his face, pretending was wearing something more acceptable, his hair wasn’t a mess. That was as far as he was willing to go. Anything else would be a waste.

He found a bathroom a deck above the room he’d spent the night in, and opened the door only to find the Hulk using one of the taps as a water fountain. His little, very embarrassing, squeak of surprise made the creature look up. Loki really tried not to quail as they made eye contact. An uncomfortable pause ensued.

“Uhhh, you know that’s not drinking water, right?” Loki offered as a peace offering. The Hulk narrowed his eyes at him.

“Why does Puny God say so?” _No outward signs of aggression or violence, very good, very good_. At the same time he wasn’t sure whether the Hulk was asking him about why he was telling him, or how he knew this wasn’t drinking water. Loki decided to opt for the second one. Feelings really weren’t something he wanted to discuss with a creature that had created a small cavern in blooming _cement_ using his body as the digging tool.

“Well,” Loki began, somewhat hesitantly and very fast, “you see, on ships like this one water has to be conserved, which means that any wastage water is recycled and used for purposes not relating to consumption-“

“Hulk doesn’t care.” The creature _growled_. Loki tensed and prepared to fly. “Why does Puny God tell Hulk?” The question he didn’t really know how to answer. At least his remains would be found quickly, Loki thought wistfully.

“Well…” Damn it. He was supposed to be _good_ with words. The best. _So be it. Convince the Hulk not to kill you_. “You’re one of us now.” Oh, how he hated that fact. “And… that means I can’t just let you poison yourself when you could be helpful.” Loki hated every syllable. He was going to drown himself in the reservoirs later.

“So Puny God wants to _use_ Hulk?”

“Don’t make it so accusatory, what I meant to say is that this is your home too, and that family stick together and whilst you certainly aren’t _my_ family, you are a part of Thor’s and I care enough about him to care about you. Got it?”

The Hulk stared at him for a few moments before stepping back from the sink. “Hulk doesn’t like the direction Puny God is taking this. Good day.” He stomped off, slamming the door shut behind him. Loki jumped and then exhaled a long sigh of relief.

He locked the bathroom doors and stripped out of his clothes, sending them to an extradimensional pocket until they could be washed later. He did the same with the set of clothes he’d been wearing in the battle against Hela. Damn, he really needed more clothes.

_Who’re you kidding, you’ve got thousands of different outfits._

_Yes but like half of them are severely inappropriate and Thor would probably kill me._

_Just summon something green dumbass._

_No need to be insulting. Dickhead._

Yes, he probably needed to stop winding himself up. And everyone knows the best way to wind down is by taking a warm, relaxing bath, without a hedonist in the tub with you.

He went over to the decorative bath ( _looks like the Grandmaster did some renovating, in case he ever decided he wanted a space adventure and wanted to bring everyone with_ ) and turned on the hot water, then considered the temperature for a bit and turned on a stream of cold water too. Loki opened a cupboard and brought out a few towels, which he laid carefully within reach as he waited for the water to pile up until it would allow him to dive fully underwater.

Loki sighed quietly as he sunk into the warm waters. He’d have to work out a way to ration fresh water supplies, but that was a worry for the future. Right now, he was allowed to do this, if not for his status then for the work he’d done last night. He closed his eyes and sighed, again.

It felt so blessedly _good_ , the warm liquid sloshing against his skin, enveloping him and holding him close. Loki took his time when he summoned a washcloth and trailed soapy bubbles along his skin, using a shampoo of his own; he was not as selfish as to use up limited supplies on board. If it wasn’t for the shape of the tub, he could almost fool himself that he was back home, just resting after an adventure, or a mission. Sometimes Fandral had joined him, either in camaraderie or in pursuit of a mutual pleasure. He missed those days, and he missed his friends.

Washing his hair was a less than enjoyable experience. The entire thing was so knotted Loki almost considered whipping out a blade and cutting it down to a short length, but then remembered Thor’s hair and decided that any action on his part would look too much like solidarity or like he was copying. And Loki was many things, but not a copycat. He considered braiding it up, like he and Thor had used to do for the other, but it seemed like too much of a reminder of what had happened; he would be doing this alone, and even if Thor were here Loki couldn’t return the gesture.

Loki deigned to get up, eventually, and decided that the towels he’d set out earlier weren’t nearly good enough. He pulled a soft dark green bathrobe through the ether and slipped that on whilst he dried his hair. He combed through the dark strands, thinking about how straight he’d used to have it. He didn’t feel like trying now, so curled ends it was.

Now came the slightly unpleasant part. He might have soothed and healed his battle scrapes last night, but there was some, um, lasting _damage_ on parts of him as an uncomfortable reminder of what he had endured in the name of self preservation, and, later, in the name of keeping Thor alive.

Loki opened a random cabinet and was unsurprised to find exactly what he had been looking for. He selected a salve that looked somewhat familiar and applied it, grimacing at the pain at his entrance but feeling a lot better for the lack of it once it was done.

Enough bath time, he needed to be out. Loki clothed himself in his typical Asgardian attire, something familiar to hold onto, and strode out of the bathroom, cape flashing into existence behind him, checking his reflection one last time before he went. He was finally free to look however he wanted, but Loki had felt an almost physical repulsion to the idea of colouring himself with makeup, courtesy of Sakaar.

He noticed that relatively few Asgardians had made their way to this relatively close part of the ship, and so made his way to the main hall where he could hear the sounds of infants crying – and some cries that weren’t coming from such – and the loud buzz of voices.

It was there where he found Thor, standing next to Heimdall, looking absolutely exhausted. Loki didn’t fail to notice the lines of strain on his brother’s face that betrayed his pain even if he so valiantly fought it.

“Thor,” He said softly, “Would you come with me?”

His brother looked at him uncomprehending for a moment, then Thor twitched and whatever gear hadn’t been working suddenly became unstuck at his presence.

“Loki! You stayed.” Loki made an ‘obviously’ gesture, ignoring fresh hurt that came up at Thor’s tired words. Likely the oaf was too tired to filter what came out of his great mouth. He made eye contact with Heimdall, who looked fresher than when Loki had last seen him, and gripped Thor’s wrist, leading him away with only minimal resistance from his brother.

“Sit down.” Loki ordered, once they found a ledge of appropriate dimensions. His brother obediently did so, but looked up confusedly at him. Loki fought back a bolt of frustration that flared through him.

“Loki, why are we here? I need to get back-“

“You didn’t sleep at all last night, did you?” Loki demanded, frustration rising. “Carted me off to bed with a tucking-in and kiss and then proceeded to work your ass off all night, huh?”

Some emotion other than tiredness bled onto Thor’s face. “Loki, you need to understand, I’m King now-“

“And what? That means you don’t sleep? If you don’t remember, I’d be glad to remind you of the Odinsleep, named specifically after your – our – your – father. The people need you strong and present, both of which are requirements you don’t really meet at the moment. So, because we have a long day ahead of us-“

“I’m not going to sleep now.” Thor said stubbornly.

“If you’d let me _finish_ , I was going to suggest something else. Close your eyes- eye, sorry, I’m going to check under the eyepatch and clear things up under there.” Loki didn’t wait for Thor to respond to his orders, instead he grabbed his brother’s face – not too hard, and tilted his head back. He didn’t miss the twitch Thor tried to mask as he closed his eye and Loki removed the eyepatch.

Loki cursed. He squeezed his eyes tight shut, opened them again and then swore just like the first time he looked. There was a deep indent where the eye had used to be, and a scabbed-over scar where their wonderful sister had stabbed Thor’s eye out.

“Loki?” Thor sounded uncertain.

“Nothing.” He said. “Just wasn’t expecting… this.” Shit. Damn. Fuck. Shit. Whoever had treated this… was probably untrained for things at this level. “Stay still,” He told his brother, “You’ll feel this whole area go numb in a moment, and I need you not to react to anything I do, and for Norns’ sake, keep your remaining eye closed.”

Loki cast a quick spell to gently _discourage_ anyone who was coming in their direction and then sent a numbing chill all down Thor’s face, temporarily dispelling any pain. He needed to clean this entire area, disinfect it and remove anything that could cause trouble. Which would be easier if he had a stomach for such things, but there _was_ , after all, a _reason_ why he hadn’t learnt healing.

He ignored his nausea and used his magic to clear away leftover parts from the old eyeball (he wanted to scream, he really wanted to scream) and to make sure the remaining optic nerve was covered to prevent infection going inside Thor’s fucking head and oh no he really wasn’t made for this nor was he trained-

Loki let out a deep breath and summoned some disinfectant, swabbing it on some cotton and using it to clean out the now almost completely empty space. If Thor wanted, he could fit a prosthetic eye in there but Loki thought he looked better with the eyepatch. Still, it had to be uncomfortable to have an empty space in your head...-

“What are you doing?”

“Hush, all will be well.” Loki murmured, continuing to work at cleaning the socket.

“Loki that tone of voice isn’t helping.” Thor sounded worried. And scared. It wasn’t a tone Loki was used to hearing from his brother.

“Shush,” Loki said, “I’m working.” He muttered an incantation to soothe pain and lightly removed the numbness around Thor’s missing eye. He stepped back, magicking off any blood before Thor could open his eye and see it.

“You can open your eye now,” Loki said and passed Thor his eyepatch. “How does it feel?”

Thor frowned, drawing his brows together and considering as he replaced the eyepatch. “It doesn’t really… feel. Just numb. What did you do?”

“Cleaned it out and cast a spell to make it hurt less. When the ache starts up again, you need to find me and I’ll repeat the casting.” Loki sat down next to Thor. “I’m going to transfer you some of my energy to keep you going until nightfall. Or, you know, when the rhythm of the ship turns to night.”

“Will it hurt?” Now Thor sounded apprehensive. Loki shook his head in answer and shifted closer to his brother, leaning on him, a head on his shoulder.

“No, just hold my hand.” Thor did, and Loki slowly softened the barrier between the flow of their two energies, allowing the edges to become blurred before allowing some of his to seep through. Thor shuddered against him and Loki felt his own hand grow cold where he was touching Thor.

“That feels weird.” Thor said. Very intelligent.

“Only the first few times,” Loki replied, stifling a yawn. “Then it becomes more instinctive.”

When he judged that enough had floated through, he severed the tie between them and removed his hand from Thor’s grip, rubbing at it in an attempt to distribute heat evenly across his body. His left side felt somewhat empty, and Loki was too unbalanced to move away, leaning against his brother until the world stopped spinning and he could stand on his own once again. He did so, and rubbed at his face, many of the perks of having had a night’s sleep gone.

“Let’s go back to the main hall,” He told his brother, turning away. “I suggest you help me find the woman I gave the food packets to and we can organise some sort of breakfast.”

\---------------------------------------

Inside the main hall people were looking no less exhausted than Loki felt, and many were huddled together in what Loki could only read as family groups. He scanned the room for Heimdall, found nothing, and instead looked for Kaysa in the crowd.

He spotted her sitting with an adolescent girl and three men, all between young adulthood and slightly above that, making her the oldest in the group. Loki tugged on Thor’s arm and made his way through the people in order to get to her.

“Greetings, Kaysa.” She jumped at his voice, brief alarm turning to relief. She stumbled to her feet and gave him a short bow of her head.

“Prince Loki.” She noticed Thor beside him. “King Thor.” She straightened up nervously. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“We need to set up a canteen on one side of this space,” Loki said, “And I was wondering if you could help us set up.”

“I’m hungry.” One of the men supplied. The other two nodded agreement. Kaysa noticed Thor looking at them curiously and turned towards them. Loki waited patiently as she introduced them.

“Your Royal Highnesses, these three are my nephews, children of my late brother and his wife, and this one,” She pointed out the girl, “Is my daughter. My husband didn’t make it.”

Loki inclined his head. “We have all lost someone dear to us.” It didn’t sound like enough, but right now, nothing was. “I will go in search of furniture, if you be as kind as to ask the populace for any plates or cooking vessels they may have.” Kaysa bowed her head.

“I’ll do my best to secure some, Your Highness.”

Loki slipped away after the confirmation. He made his way to one of the exits to the hall, dragging Thor with him. “Listen,” He told his brother, “I’m going in search of furniture and I’m going to be in need of people to carry it if I find any. Meanwhile, I have no idea where Heimdall is but we need to start documenting people to see exactly who and how many survived. I am going to need you to-“

“Loki, I thought _I_ was King, not you.” Thor had a jesting tone, but the expression beneath was serious.

“Thor, if I tried to replace you you could _bet_ the people would riot.” Loki said, rocking back on his heels. “Between the two of us, I have more experience organising-“

“Loki, I’m sorry but I really cannot remember you organising anything like this ever.”

Loki bit his lip. Now would be a bad time to disclose his… personal life… to Thor. “I have… spent time off-world,” He said vaguely, “Which taught me such skills as we need at this moment. I cannot tell you now,” He met Thor’s gaze, looking for understanding, “But I swear to you one day I’ll tell you where I’ve been.”

Thor nodded reluctantly, obviously unsatisfied by any Loki had just said but able to understand that Loki would not give him any straight answers no matter how long they might argue. “Okay then. You were saying that I needed to-?”

Loki shook himself. “Right. I need you to find paper, and writing materials. Then I need you to create columns for name, profession, age, and any remaining relatives, or caretakers, for the children.”

“You want me to personally document everyone.”

“Why yes. I’m needed elsewhere, which is the finding of the things we need, so you can take up a position in the midst of the people where you can be seen. A hunch tells me that that is what Heimdall is doing anyways; you can get him to assist you and I do believe he’d be happy to.”

Thor sighed. “I’d better find him and get started then. Don’t take too long, and don’t wander off too far,” He warned. “I don’t want to have to organise a search party for my brother.”

“Good luck to you too, Thor.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So um, I'm not an eyeball specialist but there is a scene where Loki has to look at Thor's and clean things up a little, so if you can't handle any mention of eyeballs (or more specifically the lack of them) you might want to skip from when the eyepatch comes off to when it comes on again, sorry if it's not specific enough I don't want to break up the chapter.
> 
> To those who've read the whole chapter: How was it? It wasn't my favourite to write, out of this whole piece, that's for sure. Urgh missing eyeballs.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> People can finally eat, Thor is forced to do bureaucratic work, one of our characters enlists the only remaining spellcaster's help and Heimdall spends five minutes talking to Loki. Also there's something weird about that wall. (Is that a wild Valkyrie that has been spotted out in the open???)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> People often say that Loki can do everything with his magic. That is false. Loki never got Odin's approval, with his magic or otherwise. Is this relevant? Probably not, but I think you should all read it.
> 
> Anyway, another LOOOONNNGGGG-ish chapter today, folks. For the next two chapters, that will sadly not be the case, but my brain decided it must be this way.
> 
> Today includes some of my own ideas of how magic is linked to people and the way it works, also do you think Heimdall is the son of a Valkyrie? I read some fics where that was the case and I am _tempted_.
> 
> Thank you once again for the comments, enjoy!

It didn’t take long before Loki was completely and utterly lost. It wasn’t _his_ fault that the ship was built like a bloody labyrinth. On the other hand, he wandered, very conveniently, into a canteen. If only he wasn’t lost, it would have been great. As it was, Loki set a marker of energy and started trying to find his way back to the main fold.

At first he listened for any sounds, which was unsuccessful, then he tried to find his way back by retracing his steps, which also didn’t work, and in the end was forced to look for Thor’s energy signature and guess his way down and up flights of stairs and decks and corridors until he collided with his brother.

“Oh there you are,” Loki remarked brightly, ignoring the fact that both of them were now on the floor and that Thor was trying to push him off. “I was starting to fear I’d gotten lost.”

“ _Starting_ to? You’ve been gone for a good _forty minutes._ Did you find something?”

“Oh yes,” Loki chattered, still happy he was alive and not really understanding why being gone for forty minutes constituted him as lost. “I found a great many things, including a very nice canteen that we can raid-“

“Why not just go there? Is it far?”

“Oh no, but wouldn’t you agree that it would be better to keep all major functions in the main hall for the time being to prevent people getting lost and dying in the shafts-“

“Okay, please stop talking about people dying.” Thor gripped his shoulder and Loki could see some panic in his remaining eye. As it was, if he extended his senses, he was sure he would sense his brother’s heartbeat going crazy as he got himself under control. Hm, interesting.

He was surprisingly chipper, all of a sudden. Loki wasn’t sure where the mood came from, but he let it stay, preferring the energy rushing through him to languishing and mourning the loss of pretty much everything.

“So how’re you doing?” He asked, rocking backwards and forwards on his heels. “Found Heimdall?”

“I did indeed, you were perhaps more correct than you thought when you told me he might help with the documentation – he had gone to collect writing materials from, well, somewhere. He didn’t say where… must be the eyes.”

“Must be the eyes.” Loki agreed with a ready nod. He found Heimdall at a desk that had been dragged from somewhere, pouring over a stack of loose papers. He’d have to bind them together later to prevent them getting lost. He glanced back at Thor. “So?”

Instead of replying his brother cleared his throat loudly and raised his voice:

“Attention, people of Asgard! My brother has found the supplies we needed to start preparing food en-masse, and we need volunteers to carry them here. Any willing to volunteer their time to making sure we all get to eat, please make their way over here in the next three minutes.”

Loki froze. It was what he’d needed… but the people didn’t trust him. He could spot reluctance among the crowds, and though a couple dozen extricated themselves from the crowds they eyed him with wariness. It was obvious that despite Kaysa’s continued warmness he was quickly losing his Saviour status among some corners of the hall. Still, what he needed right now was people, not their faith in him. And people he got. One step at a time needed to be taken to cement his place within their midst once again.

Loki summoned a smile and greeted his… thirty… thirty-five… fourty-two helpers. _Pas mal, pas mal._ He waved a hand to draw them out of the hall and into the adjacent hallway.

“I really hope you don’t stray, because we probably won’t notice you’re gone for a while and by then you might be on the other end of the ship.” He said, still smiling afterwards. “And that probably means you’re doomed as I have no idea how to get around this mess of corridors.”

“Why did we agree to follow him again?” A woman muttered.

“I like your sense of humour.” Loki said.

“It wasn’t.”

“I am aware.” He faced everyone again. “Follow me and don’t dally; we’re all hungry even if some of us don’t show it.” Waiting until they nodded, Loki turned and went down the corridor, weaving a spell to show him the quickest way to the canteen.

Green wisps appeared and Loki followed them without hesitation; his magic hadn’t failed him in this before and he was willing to trust it now.

He wasn’t used to being in charge of Asgardian people. When he had needed to do anything involving group endeavours it had always been something Thor or a general had led, and he could feel stares sending sparks up his spine as he took multiple side-corridors, twisting and bending and climbing up and down stairs. He could hear people talking to each other behind him, probably exchanging names or provinces or family members lost. He almost wished he could join in, but he was almost certain he wouldn’t be accepted if he tried, royalty or not.

Before long, they were at his marker. A man he recognised from… somewhere – Loki wasn’t certain – was the first to enter and grab one end of a table. A woman rushed to help him, and Loki stood back to let more enter.

“Leave the chairs and benches,” He ordered as they looked for things to grab. “I’ll carry some over, and tables are currently priority.” A few glared at him but nobody argued. Within minutes, everyone had something and they were staring at him, waiting.

“Follow the green trail,” Loki instructed. “It will lead you back to the hall. I’ll be at the back, and don’t even _think_ about trapping me.” He summoned a dagger sheathed in bright green light and held it floating above his hand, a silent threat if anyone dared to turn on him.

The trip back was uneventful, and by the time Loki re-entered the hall it was a buzz of activity, people getting out of the way as yet another section of it was dedicated to the makeshift canteen.

He was intercepted by Korg, who told him in many words that Heimdall (Loki could match no other person to the description given to him) wanted him to clearly make signs pointing to the toilets so that people wouldn’t get lost – there had apparently been an incident this morning of a poor soul finding the loo and not being able to find their way back, resorting to standing there miserably until they could be escorted back. Loki grinned and sent out waves of red light once he’d put his own floating table down, making them streak across the walls in search of said paths to the toilets and searing into the metal walls where they found them.

“That was cool, bro.” Korg informed him.

“Thank you,” Loki said, bowing his head in acknowledgement. “Nobody ever tells me that.”

“I’m sorry for that, bro. I promise your lights are cool!” Then Korg bumbled off somewhere to fill other people’s heads with his well-meant nonsense. Loki found himself smiling after him, before taking a deep breath and calling his people over to him. 22 tables down, many chairs, benches, cutlery and cheap food trays to go.

On the second trip, once everyone was out of the way carrying 8 more tables – Loki had insisted that they made it a round number which sent a murmur about his ‘peculiarities’ running down the line – a number of benches enough to seat people at 12 of the tables, and a few large pots which could be used to make food immediately, Loki regarded a section of wall that had caught his eye.

He glanced back, more out of reflex than to check if someone were actually there; he had set up a ward to warn him of anyone in the vicinity after his paranoia had gotten the better of him, and slunk to one of the shadowed ends of the plundered and rapidly emptying canteen. Letting out a breath, he summoned his magic and traced a glowing finger across the section of wall, feeling something inside unlock at his touch.

A panel opened. Loki raised an eyebrow, not too surprised – ships often had escape tunnels, and mazes within mazes of shafts, corridors and pipes all which could be learnt, unless the ship was sentient and had a nasty habit of swapping things around… Yeah, that hadn’t been an ideal week.

He vowed to come back here later, when things were less hungry- sorry, hectic – and he could dedicate the appropriate amount of time to exploring. For now, however, Loki grabbed a mounted set of cookers from the wall and tugged, drawing them out until the pipes snapped and he could get them down. As for repairs in the future… that would be Thor’s problem.

\----------------------------------

It took five rounds of going back and forth over almost 2 hours for them to set up something acceptable. After Loki had brought the cookers back, those who knew how had begun to cook the ration packets. Those who were elderly (not many were left) had already eaten (or refused to), and children were the priority, their parents pushing them forward so that they could receive a hot meal for the first time in almost a day.

Loki refused to acknowledge his own hunger – he’d done for much longer without, it wouldn’t do to allow himself to go soft – and instead joined Thor and Heimdall at the table where a line of people had formed.

“How’s it going?” He asked, leaning against the (thankfully) sturdy desk. “Need any of my help, or should I do something else?”

“How about Your Highness goes and makes friends with someone?” Heimdall suggested, scribing down someone’s name. “Is the Valkyrie around?”

Loki scoffed. “If you haven’t noticed, she hates me.” Heimdall turned those golden eyes on him.

“ _Is_ it hatred? She doesn’t know anyone, and most of her experience with you has been in uncomfortable situations. At least find her and tell her there’s food; getting drunk on an empty stomach always makes the hangovers worse.”

Loki’s lips twitched up in what was almost a smile. “You want me to get into her good favours by reducing the intensity of the bad side-effects of her bad habits? It might work short-term, but we don’t need an alcoholic Valkyrie on board.”

“And you seriously doubt that she has good favours.”

Loki swallowed back a shallow laugh. “That too.”

Heimdall finished with the documentation and straightened up, giving the pen to Thor. He gestured Loki away and Loki followed him a short way until they were out of earshot.

“That Valkyrie has always been aloof and somewhat sour, but she really is more than what she shows the world. You should know all about masks, and pretending, O’ only remaining playwright of Asgard.”

How old was Heimdall? “You knew her?” Of course he would have. Heimdall, before taking up his position as Gatekeeper, had served in the highest skilled orders of the military, alongside legendary warriors, _including_ the Valkyries. “You knew her.” Loki repeated, this time not a question.

Heimdall’s smile was sad. “She was one of the best. Part of me has always held a grudge against Odin for what he allowed to happen to them.” He turned away, walking back to Thor. Over his shoulder, he said “I only hope that Thor can rebuild what your father broke.” _I hope so too._

So Heimdall still believed there was some sort of hope for Brunnhilde. Loki still wasn’t going to risk his face.

“Korg!” He called out, “Tell Valkyrie to get over here and bring the rest of your Sakaarean friends too!”

“Sure thing, bro. Why didn’t you tell me that you were a Prince?”

Loki sighed and snapped his fingers to twist through space and appear next to him. “It didn’t come up.” He said, ignoring the expression on Korg’s rocky face. “So will you do it?”

“Right away, Prince. Right away. I know just where she’s hiding!”

And off he went. Loki slightly regretted doing that bit of magic, mostly because it wasn’t a _bit_ , but a hell ton. Magic like that was costly. When he’d first figured it out, Loki hadn’t been able to enjoy the success as he had promptly collapsed to the chagrin of his mother.

Heimdall was right, but not because Loki was in desperate need of companionship. He – they – needed a network of reliable people who could get things done much more efficiently than the… three. Three of them. The governing body of Asgard had all mysteriously died.

Loki was standing in a corner, thinking, when he once again glimpsed Kaysa in front of him. This time, she had come straight to him, looking a lot more timid than he had ever seen her in their two prior conversations.

“Yes?” He asked, searching her face. “Is there an issue?”

“Oh no, nothing of the sort, Your Highness, I just wanted to… talk.”

Loki felt something in him sink. That tone was not a good one. Did she wish to discuss his past deeds, warn him off, tell him it would be easier if he left? Perhaps she was curious, maybe she wanted to hear it from the monster himself, give him a chance to _justify_ his actions. He summoned a watery smile. He couldn’t believe this was getting to him. Perhaps it was that he knew her name and that she had previously respected him. It made everything more personal. Loki disliked personal.

“What about?” He asked, smooth and diplomatic, the way he had been trained.

“My daughter.” _Oh._ Not what he had expected, but welcome. “I was wondering if you- I’m sorry- I know it’s not my place-“

“We don’t exactly have places anymore. The past is in the past.” Loki interrupted. “I may be a Prince in name, but in reality there’s not much to be Prince _of_. Any concern of yours is my concern too.” Kaysa still looked no less uncomfortable when she continued.

“My daughter… has magic. And I was wondering if you could train her.”

Loki’s stomach dropped. He wasn’t the only Seidr user that could actually be expected to fight. He wasn’t alone. He could use the knowledge he had collected and learned over the centuries and pass it on, _finally_. “That’s- that’s great news. Thank you for telling me.”

“Are they? We were told when she was born-“ _Oh no._

“You didn’t do anything to cripple her magic, did you?” Loki made an effort not to sound too aggressive. It happened, sometimes. A magical child born, only to have their connection to their Seidr and Yggdrasil severed to prevent problems. It was cruel, and it was wrong, and many didn’t know what they had condemned their children to.

Kaysa’s brown eyes were downcast and in them burned a mixture of anger, bitterness, and guilt. “I’m sorry. We were told it was dangerous. We couldn’t handle a magical child. I don’t know what the sorcerer did. Can you please try to undo it?” Her eyes were shining with tears. “She’s all I have left of my children and my husband, I don’t want for her to suffer any further.”

Loki reached out to lay a hand at her shoulder. He couldn’t agree with what she had allowed to happen, but he could understand her pain at what had happened. He’d been briefly severed from his magic in a few choice instances, only once as a punishment that had never been repeated. He couldn’t imagine living like that for centuries. Whoever the sorcerer who’d done it had been, Loki hoped they had suffered a painful death.

“I’ll see what I can do.” He promised softly. “Once we get settled down, organise rooms, I’ll snatch a chamber or two and attempt to reconnect her soul and mind to the flow in Yggdrasil, get her used to it before making it possible for her to actually cast.” Making it sound simpler than it was. Still… “I’m glad you came to me.”

“Thank you so much, Your Highness.”

Loki reached out and wiped a tear from Kaysa’s cheek, smiling to her despite the pain it brought him. “For Asgard, anything.”

They parted without another word, and Loki found himself desperately wishing for his friends, for them to be here and alive and joking around whilst they worked. Instead, he was alone. But he wouldn’t cave. Thor needed him, and he- he didn’t want to leave this behind.

He needed to hold his head high and be the Prince Asgard needed him to be. He was a performer, he knew that. He showed people what they thought they should see, played along to their worst expectations. Not anymore. He would show them all just what they had been prepared to throw out and abandon. Loki felt a small smile curve his lips.

The moment of quiet satisfaction and collection of his thoughts was interrupted by his stomach insisting upon sustenance. Loki sighed. He was thin enough as it was, from the worry and constant stress on Sakaar.

He glanced at Thor, who had gotten himself food, and at Heimdall, who was looking contemplatively at the line. The Valkyrie had emerged and was waiting, and the Hulk nowhere to be seen. Loki swallowed down a sudden twist of humiliation of having to go stand in line like the common populace and wait for _rations_ , and shoved the feelings away as hard as he could – which wasn’t far enough but good enough to allow him to force his feet to draw him to the line.

This was surreal. He, Loki, Prince of Asgard, Traitor to the Crown, (actually, now that he thought of it, probably Crown Prince too, though he’d have to discuss succession with Thor), former prisoner of the Asgardian dungeons, part-time snake (as Thor liked to put it) and hobbyist space mafia member was practically _penniless_ – if you didn’t count the credits he had gotten on Sakaar which were safely in his accounts – homeless, and utterly pirate-less too, and standing in line.

He _never_ stood in line. Ever. After the first two decades of his little space adventures, nobody had dared stand in his way on a ship, or in the stations they commanded, much less in stations _he_ commanded. As a Prince he by default had never had to stand in line. Loki found that the new experience was boring. He understood what Heimdall meant about needing friends; there was no other way to make this any more tolerable. _This is your life now, Loki. Get used to it. Lines and yucky food and-_

Actually from what he could see the food wasn’t that bad. The rest still stood. Like him. Oh Norns he could be doing so many useful things. But no, he was standing here, in line. Great.

Loki caught Valkyrie’s eye as she, maybe ten people ahead of him, got her meal and turned to go off somewhere and eat. He smiled, not incredibly nastily, just somewhat thinly, and vaguely challenging. She scowled at him mightily and marched off... all the way out of the main hall and, if he had to guess, some sort of side room, which probably contained a bar. Knowing her. Knowing the Grandmaster somewhat better, to his regret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New plot line! What will happen with Loki's potential new student? I don't know about you, but I've always imagined Loki as someone who literally _burns _to share his knowledge with those around him - and is always sorely disappointed when they don't care.__


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "We should have done this sooner" ~ Thor and Loki, probably.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is mostly a filler chapter, at least to me, we need these events to happen and so they shall but that's about it. Next chapter is also short but hopefully more meaningful.

So the food wasn’t abysmal. It was, to his hungry and used-to-three-meals-a-day stomach, delicious. Loki had brought the tray, with all the food neatly arranged in the compartments (he really appreciated the neatness and told the girl who’d served him as much), to the end of a table from where he could watch Thor work as Heimdall went to grab his own.

People eyed him and a few almost moved, but one sharp sidelong look was enough to deter them from that particular course of action. Loki ate in silence, already tired despite barely being awake for three hours and a half, slowly cutting apart a piece of meat which he methodically ate from worst pieces to best. It wasn’t from an animal he knew, but the taste was familiar enough to be traced to their own galaxy, so probably something along the west quadrant in origin (based on standard notation, that was).

There were steamed vegetables, and even dessert in the form of what people on Midgard would probably call a donut, but the batter from what this had been made had almost nothing to do with the Midgardian snack.

As Loki was finishing, a shadow fell over him and he braced himself for battle, only for Thor to sit down heavily next to him and put an arm around his shoulders. Loki leant into him, allowing Thor to hug him whilst he finished and taking comfort from the familiarity.

“Is it the eye?” he asked eventually, sliding free. Thor shook his head but then almost immediately grimaced. Whilst annoyed that Thor would lie to him, Loki still appreciated that he wasn’t wanted only for his services. “What is it then?” He asked, tracing a finger along the edge of the eyepatch.

“We need to start expanding out of this hall. Our priority is getting people with young children rooms so that they can start getting proper rest-“ Thor cut off as Loki recast the spell from earlier, soothing the pain in the empty socket. He closed his remaining eye and briefly leaned in to Loki’s cool fingertips, letting out a quiet sigh. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Loki said softly. “We’re going about this all wrong.” He added, suddenly. Thor looked at him in surprise.

“What do you mean?”

“We’re trying to guess our way through the ship whilst somewhere very close there’s a bridge with all the information we need.” Loki could have kicked himself for not realising earlier. Thor nodded.

“It can tell us which parts of the ship are off-limits due to Hela’s spike, and we can use it to coordinate our approach to stations and planets.”

“And there’ll be maps to everything we can use as living space.” Loki added, feeling irrationally proud that Thor had a brain.

“Can you find it and break in?” Thor asked. Loki laughed, feeling a little giddy at the prospect of breaking and entering.

“Thought you’d never ask. I’ll do it – " Loki held up a set of lockpicks. "Call you when I bypass the security?”

Thor laughed, a gleam in his eye. “My resourceful little brother, yes do that.”

\--------------------------------------

Loki left Thor, pausing to place his tray on a pile to be cleaned and took a side exit, ignoring the looks that followed him all the way down the main hall and out. He passed a few larger hallways, and then climbed up a shaft simply because he _could_ , and nobody was here to stop him. He’d missed this sort of work, even if they would have done this anyway sooner or later, and there was no larger plot involved.

Pulling himself up with more effort than he should, Loki thought that he’d really fallen out of form as Odin. This place _had_ to have someplace he could use as a training room, however, so as long as he trained enough before _he_ caught up to them Loki would be right as rain and ready to fight, or die, as the situation presented itself. The idea of having to die just as he’d been given a chance stung, but then again Loki had always been able to order his priorities no matter how much they hurt him.

He scrambled up over a ledge, muttered an incantation over the metal plate waiting for him, and slid through the resulting gap in the wall, finding himself in a main corridor, almost as wide as the one leading to the main entrance of the main hall a full two levels below (the hall was designed to be taller than the standard single level and the rest of the ship had to account for that in its design). From there, the path was easy.

Loki simply strode up to the thick metal reinforced doors, broke open a control panel and stared. Whoever had owned this ship had wasted nothing on the amount of locks and failsafes to bar the way to the bridge. If Loki hadn’t been used to this, he would have been stumped. As it was, he merely opened up a dimensional pocket and took out the simple metal tool he needed. Placing it in a tiny notch, he secured it there with magic and pushed it in, whilst his other hand lit up and Loki traced his fingers over semi-familiar technology, murmuring soft incantations to help him.

The panel beeped and Loki withdrew. He blew on his fingers to release the glow – something he liked to do for show but still amused him when he was on his own – and instead gestured the now broken seal to the treasure within open, the sensors responding to their set commands. The doors slid open, and Loki waltzed in. _Does this count as breaking and entering if I own the ship?_ he wondered distantly as he traversed further in, looking around to see what he had to work with.

There was a layer of dust on every surface, he noted with distaste, but the systems beeped evenly and everything seemed to be fully operational. A large window took up the nose of the bridge, and away from the bustle of downstairs Loki could appreciate the view of the stars. If he was right, the window doubled as a display, which could be used to garner information about star systems they could see. There was a hologram of the ship spinning slowly in midair, and Loki could see that no small part of the image was coloured red, a little _parting gift_ from his sister. What he was looking for lay in a set of bays, a set of seats set in a slight curve and in front of them an island with screens, switches and mikes.

After a moment of hesitation, Loki switched on the intercom.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki decides to use the intercom system to its fullest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ummm so this is either a very good chapter full of character growth, or a cringy piece of hot garbage. I really hope it comes out as the former *crosses fingers*.
> 
> Enjoy!

**_“I’m in.”_** Loki said, completely without preamble, enjoying the way his voice echoed through the ship. In the multitude of surveillance screens he caught Thor raising an eyebrow at him.

**_“Hello everyone, it’s your favourite God of Mischief – and,”_** He continued, chatting idly, **_“I’ll have you all know that it took me less than twenty seconds to bypass the ridiculous amounts of locks on this thing, and that we can now switch the main driving functions to here, on the bridge – the view is glorious, let me tell you – and we can expect this to happen in the next three days, tops.”_** Loki paused. **_“If you have any experience piloting a ship, please do come tell me, or if not me,_** ” He had to give them a second option so that nobody would nope out just because it was him they had to interact with, **_“Then someone who can get back to me so we can work out who gets let in here and who is most certainly banned. For example, alcoholics who cannot be trusted.”_** On one display he saw Valkyrie scowl and look straight at the surveillance camera. The next second she had very clearly ripped out the speaker in the bar and showed it to him, before throwing it out of view. He muted the mike and laughed, before choosing the option labelled ‘evening saloon corridor’ for the appropriate level and turning on the sound.

 ** _“Did you think you’d be able to get rid of me that easily?”_** He asked, smirking despite the fact that he knew she couldn’t see it. **_“Please, don’t insult me like that. I’m letting you be, but we really need those speakers to stay where they are. Thank you for your cooperation.”_** With that, Loki cut the sound. He took another look into the ‘evening saloon’, where Valkyrie was glaring daggers at him, holding a bottle so tightly it was a miracle it didn’t shatter in her grip.

“Ah well, you can’t please everyone.” Loki said and turned to go back to the main hall to grab his brother real quick. A tug in his chest stopped him, and he turned back to the intercom. He felt like he needed to say… something. He and Thor and the people he knew by name weren’t all that had lost something. Everyone here had their own life – their own story. And he wasn’t going to be the rotten footnote in more than a dozen of those. Turning on the sound for the whole ship, he took a deep breath before speaking:

**_“I know it’s been hard, and I know that you are still grieving for all that was lost when Asgard fell, but – this isn’t an end; it is a beginning. We have resources, here, on this ship, and we have clever, hardy, resourceful people who will make the best with what we have and who will rebuild Asgard from the ground up._ **

**_“I… haven’t been the man I could be. Many of you feel cheated by the way I’ve behaved during these last six years. I know that you may never look upon me again with anything other than wariness and loathing now that the truth has been revealed. I know many of you could never truly forgive me. I… don’t know if I will ever be able to forgive myself. And even now, I hide away in a room full of security measures and cannot face you as I say this, but I truly will do my best to help my brother – your_ ** **rightful _King – protect you._**

**_“I cannot promise you that I have changed. Inside I am still the same person. But I’m… going to try to be better. I will labour for as long as it takes and sacrifice everything I have and more if it would mean even a quarter of you get through this alive. I promise you this: From this moment to my dying breath, there is not a price I wouldn’t pay, something I wouldn’t do, and a decision I wouldn’t make if that is what it takes to protect the people who took me in when I would have died, alone and discarded, as an infant. If there is one thing you take from my illustrious liar’s tongue, let it be this promise that I make from my heart of hearts; the depth of my very soul.”_ **

Loki inhaled and took sharp step back, heart pounding erratically in his chest. He didn’t look at the screens, afraid of what he might see there. He only steadied himself and walked out, down towards his brother. Maybe at least Thor would have appreciated the sentiment, if he wasn’t worrying about Loki usurping the throne through his grandiose apologetic speeches. This had been a mistake. A most dreadful and horrible mistake that he could not take back.

He was ashamed. He held a hand to his cheek and felt the burn underneath his cool fingertips. He was petrified at the thought of walking back into the hall and being mobbed after openly acknowledging his crimes. His nature. The idea that he might be _welcomed_ made his heart freeze even more. He wanted to slump down against the wall and draw his knees to his chest, hide and not be found for days, weeks. Probably not months. He didn’t think he could handle months. But he wanted to disappear.

He was more upset than he had rights to be. He didn’t deserve to be able to have a voice, to be able to do anything but just serve and work off his crimes. They weighed heavy upon him now, in a way they hadn’t in years.

He thought he glimpsed the Hulk in a hallway. The beast gave him a single nod before stomping away, probably feeling sulky that he had acknowledged Loki. He definitely felt Valkyrie’s eyes on him as he passed the evening saloon, but he didn’t dare turn his head in her direction, certain of the disapproval he would see there.

He had promised much, and already he had broken his oath; for if he really acted out of care for the people he would have run. But he was a coward, and so he’d stayed, lured by the illusion that his big brother could protect him from the inevitable. He was a fool, and Loki knew that. He was leading the Titan straight to the people. And it was too late to tell Thor now. Loki’d meant what he said – that there wasn’t a thing he wouldn’t do now to preserve Asgard, perhaps irrationally loyal despite all the bad blood between country and him. So he’d better make sure that when Thanos came for him, nobody else got hurt. Only him. Only Loki was allowed to die as a penance. Only he would pay for his betrayal. He wondered dimly if that was stupidly self-sacrificial or just selfish. Either way, Loki was a fool.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is Loki going to be lynched? Or is his apology/promise going to be accepted? 
> 
> Either way, tomorrow is the last chapter that I have written that fits on immediately with this sequence of events, after that updates will probably slow unless I can write the piece connecting the two chunks I have in the next two days :P
> 
> I have _feelings_ about this chapter, short though it may be - if you too have feelings concerning this chapter I'd be very glad to get a comment so we can have feelings _together_.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The people's reaction. And one person's reaction in particular. You'll be seeing a lot more of that person in the future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry that it's short again, I blame my brain for dividing it this way.
> 
> Here we meet a new character, and have an (actually depending on what you count as old it might be two) old one be grumpy at Loki.
> 
> Hope you enjoy the chapter!

The attitude that greeted him in the hall was overwhelmingly positive. So positive, in fact, that Loki loosely began wondering whether he’d screwed up and imbued his voice with magic or some shit. Of course, he would have felt the drain so the only other conclusion was that he’d been forgiven and that he could count himself an Asgardian after all.

All in all, once Loki took a moment to absorb it, it wasn’t that surprising despite his past (and present) doubts on whether he’d done the right thing. People’d been willing to trust him before this, now he’d gone ahead and sworn his life to them. Nothing more endearing to good old honour-loving, glory-seeking Asgard. He found himself dimly wishing that other skills and attributes were as closely valued. No matter, they’d have to value him and everything he came with – unless they wished to be stranded starving in space.

Thor was nowhere to be seen from his vantage point, so he was forced to come face to face with actual people and said ‘actual people’ watched him curiously and semi-detachedly from behind an invisible line Loki couldn’t see but definitely felt. A solid boundary, but whether from royalty or something else remained to be seen. As it was, if it was the former, Loki didn’t want it. He’d rather the people had an authority figure in him they could come to, not one hidden behind a glass display case that said ‘no touch’.

The spell was broken by a girl with blond hair that flung herself out of the crowd and almost bowled him over.

“Prince Loki, I heard you talking to my mother, will you really help me learn magic?” She looked up at him, her light brown eyes sparkled with childish excitement almost beneath her age as she simultaneously wrapped her arms tight around his ribs and Loki couldn’t help but feel like he was dangling off a cliff. He hadn’t recognised her immediately, but now he had no doubt as to who his young assailant was.

“Kaysa’s daughter, I imagine?” He said with a smile that came almost too easily. “I don’t believe I was ever told your name, though I do remark you are certainly looking much better than this morning.” The girl giggled, and if Loki had to guess the creature currently hugging him – he’d forgotten how cuddly teenage girls got since he’d graduated from that particular state of being – was no older than maybe the later half of her sixth century. [Note: taking into account Asgardian lifespans and also different growing speeds between our species this is about 14].

He carefully extricated himself as not to hurt her feelings, trying to ignore the way heat rushed to his face as he remembered that this was a very pubic exchange. The girl seemed to realise this herself and pulled back, holding her arms close to her chest.

“My name is Eryka, Your Highness.” She said, subdued. Loki sighed inwardly and extended a hand.

“It’s an absolute pleasure to have made your acquaintance, Eryka.” He said as she accepted the handshake, in one of his better charming tones, hoping to draw her out of her shell once again. He knew all too well what it was like to expose a bit too much of yourself to the wrong person and have to shove everything back in.

“Likewise,” she mumbled, blushing a vivid pink. Loki bit back a laugh as she withdrew her hand and cradled it to her chest. He wondered how long it would be before that particular patch of skin saw water and soap again. “Soooo…?”

“You heard what I told your mother, yes?” Eryka nodded, looking both somewhat disappointed and hopeful. “That still stands. Once we’ve organised things I’ll come find you and then we can try some things out. Does that sound good?” Eryka nodded again, clearly putting on a brave face as she realised he’d never said that she’d actually do magic. Loki hoped for both their sakes that it would be possible; Asgard needed some fresh hope, and he didn’t want to fail in their eyes once again.

“Thank you, Your Highness.”

_I haven’t even done anything_. “You’re welcome, Eryka Sigvidsdottir. May the days do you well.” Leaving the child to puzzle out how he knew her name (he wasn’t so sure himself; perhaps the old _God of Stories_ part was coming back to his name) Loki moved to step back into the crowd.

He found Thor in record time, leaning against a wall and grinning sharply at him. Loki barely kept from inhaling sharply when his brother straightened up and _looked_ at him, eye ablaze with a fierce sort of pride that made Loki feel like he was burning up under the intensity.

“I see you do not disappoint,” He said, gesturing towards him instead of towards the bridge as though Loki could not discern the double meaning on his own. “Care to show me the way, brother?” There was something distinctly warm and friendly in that that Loki had not heard for years, least of all from his long-suffering brother. He smiled, trying to convey some of the same in the expression.

“Only if you let me have a room to myself.”

Thor joined him so that Loki was on his right (Loki despite himself liked being someone’s right hand, and it just about looked like Thor had claimed him), and made Loki lead the way. “Of course brother.” He said, walking beside him in a pace that might almost be called leisurely, “Though I do not see a crowd waiting to volunteer.”

“This isn’t about demand, it’s about personal space.” Loki huffed, pretending to be affronted. Though maybe he was, a little bit. And for Thor’s information, there _was_ a crowd, right there.

“You and your personal space, Loki.” But Thor didn’t look or sound his chiding words at all.

“Your Highnesses!”

Loki drew to a halt at the sound of a voice running after them. A man, who he could describe only as ruggedly handsome (and he made Loki’s heart skip a beat), with artfully dishevelled dark blond hair, and captivating hazel and green eyes- Okay that was enough. A man was making his way towards them with the look of someone who was hurrying but trying not to look it, with mediocre success.

“Yes?” Thor asked, lifting an eyebrow. “Is there a problem?” He’d laid a hand on Loki’s forearm to stop him, and had turned back; waiting.

“Yes and no,” The man said, too quickly – trying to get it all out before they – Thor – dismissed him. “No because I have some expertise with ships and, uh-“

“You’re a problem?” Thor asked, some amusement seeping up in his tone. When the man – older than Thor, Loki judged, by maybe a good 250 years – stared at him somewhat blankly for a moment before grinning, suddenly, Loki got the feeling he was right. “Alright, you may accompany us; what will one more problem do, when I was already planning to go with another?”

It dawned on Loki that Thor, his esteemed only relative, was talking about him. He began drawing away, not sure if he meant it but wells of regret and bitterness were already rising and he could only stand against them, not push them back down where they came from. “Right, well, I’m sure you’ll enjoy solving all the other problems with this big one gone-“

Thor tugged him right back. The swirling emotions died down and then stopped altogether. “I never said I wanted to be rid of said problem.”

 _Thor tugged him back like a toy horse on wheels_.

“Fine.” Said Loki curtly, striding away in favour of abandoning the conversation and getting to their location.

This time he took a path that didn’t involve shafts and so took considerably longer. When at last the three of them reached the doors Loki was unsurprised to find a certain alcoholic waiting for them.

“I want in, Your Majesty.” She said gruffly, ignoring Loki’s existence pointedly. That was fine with him, to be brutally honest. “And who is that?”

“Yes, who _is_ that?” Loki asked, turning to view the man.

“Toralf.” He answered confidently. Loki ignored that he liked that confidence.

“Toralf?” Thor tried for a second name.

“Toralf.” The man confirmed with a nod, seemingly oblivious, suppressing a grin. Loki exhaled. So one of _those_ people then. No point being attracted to him, then. There could only be one star in a relationship, and that was definitely Loki. Nobody dramatic enough to use a single name would suffice.

“Let him be.” He advised Thor, turning away. “And I thought I specifically told you not to come,” He told the Valkyrie (Brunnhilde).

She put her hands on her hips. “Newsflash: I don’t take orders from you, Your Highness. Again.”

Loki sighed and motioned to the sensors. Spreading his arms out, all grand, because that was how Loki did things.

He appreciated the deep overdramatic gasp of astonishment by Toralf, accompanying the reveal of the bridge. A transparent bulkhead was apparently a big deal to this guy. Loki’d been to far fancier ships, but if this was enough to impress the man who held the ‘expertise with ships’ card he wasn’t going to spoil his mood.

“Is this good?” Thor asked, standing aimlessly and gesturing at the space.

“In what way?” Loki asked back, leading the way to the command chair in front of the hologram.

“I don’t know,” Thor admitted, eyebrows furrowed at the damage displayed.

“I’ll tell you what this is,” Toralf exclaimed, “This is amazing! It’s full of good tech, sensors, support systems – all you could ever ask for and more!” Loki privately disagreed. There were many more things the ship could have, yet nobody could do anything about that. They were annoyingly defenceless – something he’d have to look into, perhaps purchase an upgrade at a station.

“This place is shit, I’m leaving.” Valkyrie grumbled. For a moment, Loki was almost sorry to see her go. Then he remembered that it was in everybody’s best interest for an alcoholic _not_ to be in a position of power.

“Okay.” Thor said, more confused than ever. He turned to Loki. “So how exactly does this help us right now?”

“Shows us where it’s safe to go, can be used to look over the whole ship.” Loki told him shortly. “I could write an essay on all positive and negative effects but time is of the essence.”

“Thank you for sparing me.” Thor said, rather drily. He’d never liked reading Loki’s essays on magical theory; apparently that avoidance of essays applied to all subject matters. “Can I leave you with him,” He indicated Toralf, who was still bouncing off the walls, “Or will there be a murder on board my ship?”

“You’re leaving?” Loki looked up sharply from the control panel he was examining.

“I need to finish what I started this morning.”

“Right. See you later then.” Loki turned away and sat in one of chairs facing the hologram display. At Thor’s exit, he summoned the pest to him. “Sit. You’re about to be interviewed for a post aboard this ship.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end of the pre-written bunch. I'm sorry that I couldn't wait and write more before posting but at least having an audience will motivate me to write daily so hopefully we can get at least one chapter per week. (Writing's hard, okay?)
> 
> Oh the other hand I have a number of half-written projects that might get posted in the next month or two or one day anyway so you might want to keep half an eye peeled for those.
> 
> Let me know what you thought in the comments (they're very appreciated) <3


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It started off okay, but 'okay' definitely isn't a word that can describe Loki.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This be a long one, so I hope it was worth the wait. I cannot _believe_ how long this is.
> 
> I had to use a calculator for this, please don't criticise my numbers. (are they good numbers? I tried my best to make them seem like the natural distribution you'd expect to have survived)
> 
> Check notes below for a slight vague warning, but it's all in the tags anyway.
> 
> Hope this is bearable, enjoy!

Loki as a whole enjoyed interviewing people. Given his high managerial positions in multiple places, it wasn’t uncommon to have to assemble crews or hire staff.

_This_ interview had somehow spiralled out of his control, and Loki had _somehow_ found himself thoroughly convinced to entrust control of the bridge to a random Asgardian who happened to know how to pilot, having been on half a dozen trips out of the Nine Realms throughout the course of his life. Thor was going to kill him, if Toralf did not kill all of them first.

Having handed off control (and promising a single room) Loki was finally free to chart all the space available to them as he wished. He started by fidgeting with the control panel until he had a pretty good grip on how to move the hologram around to show him what he wanted. The results of his troubles were, on paper he’d snagged from downstairs (don’t ask how), as follows:

-20 single rooms, all with private bathroom and toilet facilities (Thor already had one, despite not currently using it in ‘solidarity’)

-53 rooms that could house at most three

-17 rooms that could fit at most five

And that was about it. If they were used as they were meant to, that gave three hundred and sixty-four people a place to sleep. Which left around six hundred with nowhere to go. Loki groaned.

Naturally, the numbers had to be tweaked due to the amount of children without guardians or family, and family groups that were still intact – the beds were designed for adults (which were thankfully a similar size to Asgardians judging on the furniture) which also had to be taken into account. This was going to be a massive headache.

His hopes banked on the 40% of the ship that was currently unusable thanks to the airlock protocols making sure they stayed alive, Loki set about finding what the red areas contained in terms of housing. Twenty minutes later, with Hela’s name and being thoroughly cursed by him, the results lay before Loki, and there was truly only one thing he could do: repair the damn hole.

Not only were there more cabins (vastly more cabins, enough to house the rest of them comfortably – well, relatively) but (to Loki’s alarm) also the lower engine rooms, and the cooling systems – which from experience Loki knew had to be accessible – one thing in common every ship seemed to have was a routine malfunction of the cooling system – not to mention the oxygen supply and water filters – which meant that soon this ship might become extremely unsafe to be in if it wasn’t already.

One thing that was missing on every option Loki tried was a blueprint or indeed any sign of the maze of between-walls corridors Loki had found. That was puzzling – surely the people who’d have run this thing would prefer to not get lost? Or at least not to die if they were? But the universe was full of strange people. Maybe getting lost in tunnels was a turn on. Maybe they were excellent navigators. Maybe they were giant termites. Whatever the reason, the people of _Asgard_ certainly weren’t made for tunnels.

Loki picked up the list of rooms they had on hand now, and headed to speak to Thor, see if he could steal the register that was being made. (They’d have to reorganise the whole thing, place people either in alphabetical order or by some other merit of their being.) For now, he was going to ignore the pathways, and not worry Thor with their existence. If any accidents occurred, he’d take the fall. Until then, they were his alone.

“Don’t destroy the ship,” He called half-jokingly behind him as he stepped out and the doors began sliding closed behind him. He didn’t know if Toralf heard, or if he replied. He just hoped they wouldn’t all spontaneously die as he was left without supervision.

Loki took a roundabout way down, choosing to take a pathway above the main hall so that he could stop by a supply closet on the way to Thor. It was small for a room, but contained a desk and a chair – evidently Stationary Supervisor had been a position on board this ship. Loki noticed that the dust coating everything had been disturbed – so _that_ was where Heimdall had gotten the paper.

He took several (tens of) pages from a stack himself, hoping it would be enough for note making and first drafts. Loki purposefully ignored the pens and other writing utensils. He would write proudly with his own supplies or not at all.

Making his way to Thor was difficult. It was midday – or would have been – and the remains of Asgard were sleepy and slumbering in random intervals on the floor – still not expanding far beyond the main hall, Loki saw. The King was following the example of many of his people, head down on his desk, dozing lightly next to a stack of papers. Loki hoped this meant the records were complete.

“Thor.” He hissed, leaning over him. “ _Thor_.” No response. Loki lifted a hand and summoned his own trickle of electricity, jabbing Thor on the side of the neck, ready to leap away should the need arise.

Thor’s head shot up with an exclamation that was cut short when his eye espied Loki.

“Loki,” His brother growled, “What was that?”

“Just a bit of current, brother,” Loki replied grinning widely and half-sitting on the desk, “To wake you up with one of your own tricks.” Thor had taken particular pleasure in shocking Loki whenever he had dozed off after days of studying – and had been sorely told off by their mother for disturbing the only rest he’d had that week. Then Thor’d do it again next time. Loki did not know why their mother had thought being told off would change that.

“Very amusing.” Thor grumbled, rubbing at his eye and yawning widely. Loki took the opportunity to steal the papers and hid them in a dimensional pocket so that they wouldn’t be damaged. “Well, I’m awake now, what do you want from your poor King?”

“We need to discuss rooming – _we’ve got a bit of a situation,_ ” Loki leaned in to hiss the last bit, unwilling to be overheard, “ _and I need you and Heimdall to help me sort out the highest priority people._ ”

That seemed to get Thor’s attention, even if Loki could see he was still half-asleep. “Huh. Okay then, find a chair somewhere-“

“ _Away_ , Thor. In private.”

It was several minutes before Thor could be convinced to get up, and then several more as Loki, unsuccessful in his hunt for Heimdall, sent a summoning for him – a quick magical incantation that hopefully meant he would show up sometime in the next hour. From there, Loki dragged Thor to a conference room not far from the bedroom he’d chosen – he’d done his best to memorise as many of the rooms and different services on board as he could – and, unlocking it with a pass card he’d stolen from a desk compartment on the bridge, let them in.

Thor got the head chair. Loki waited to be told where to sit, but as no comments were apparently forthcoming, he took the right hand. Heimdall could have the left. Unless he was unceremoniously removed from the seat. In which case Loki told himself he would go on strike.

“Thor. Thor.” Loki snapped his fingers in front of his brother’s face. “You’re drifting off again, Thor _wake up_.” The lack of reaction annoyed him and for the second time that day Loki grabbed for his brother’s hand, not taking nearly as much care as before for taking it slow, barely feeling the energy currents before diving into some of his reserves and forcing power of his own through.

Thor apparently didn’t like that, as he stirred and tried to shove Loki off. Expecting this, Loki pushed back – a lot more forcefully than the situation strictly warranted – and continued until he himself felt wobbly and drained. Damn Thor for not getting any sleep, dragging both of them down.

Waiting for Heimdall to show up, Loki took the papers back out and started reading through, tallying up on a separate piece the amount of Asgardians in each age group.

“Thor,” He said, ten minutes after starting reading the list, “Where are we?”

Thor frowned at him. “What do you mean ‘where are we’? We’re right here. Unless you’re an illusion-” Loki clawed at Thor before his brother could poke him. Only Loki was allowed to do that to Thor, not the other way around.

“I meant on the list you dolt. Don’t tell me you…” Loki trailed off. He was ready to bet his mother’s dagger (well, one of the daggers that his mother had given him, anyway) that Thor had forgotten to write them down.

“Did I need to write us down? We’re both obviously present and I thought it would be too obvious-“

“The _point_ of this is to write everybody down. That _includes_ us, unless you want to go throw yourself out of an airlock. Which,” Loki said as he summoned a quill of his own and dipped it into a pot of black ink, “I am not too eager to do.” He wrote down his name at the end. After several beats of staring at the _Loki_ he’d written, Loki sighed and dipped his quill into the ink again, looking away as he wrote _Odinson_ on the paper. He resisted the twin urges to tear up the sheet and cover it in ink. If he wanted to be considered a legitimate Prince of the Realm he had to use the name of the previous ruler to claim relation. That was all. Yes, that was truly all.

Loki wondered when he would stop lying to himself.

He did the same for Thor, this time only grimacing when he had to write down Odin’s name. Thor, after all, had no alternatives. Unlike him. (Prince of two Realms, unwanted by both but unable to leave.)

Heimdall had done the sensible thing and written himself down first. (Unfortunately, for _purely_ archival purposes, his age had been left blank. Why was he being such a dramatic son of a- once again Loki had nothing to fill the gap.) This way, there was no doubt that Heimdall was indeed on the ship, as Loki pointed out to Thor who promptly dismissed him and his argument. Loki huffed and summoned a bottle of Asgardian mead to drink in his face, which was promptly confiscated by Heimdall – who’d apparently arrived – before he could take a sip, and who explained that _he_ would be drinking that, thank you so much for saving my favourite, Loki.

Loki begrudgingly accepted the thanks, glaring at the watcher as he took a seat opposite him. After waiting for several seconds, Loki took out the list of the rooms they had at hand.

“We don’t have enough room.” He said, bluntly, laying down the space they had available. “I counted the amount of people we have, which is nine hundred and seventy-two – thank you Heimdall for taking the time to get through the Sakaarean gladiators too – and there’s no way we can possibly fit them all without access to the damaged areas of the ship. Heimdall, you haven’t been to the bridge yet but if you would look over there you will see the hologram display. Exactly 40.1% of the ship is unavailable to use due to the giant spike. We’re lucky that it was fitted with appropriate airlock procedures.” Loki purposefully skipped notice of the systems that were in danger of malfunctioning, unwilling to stress out his brother or to be either forced to work too soon to fix it, or be forced to redirect course to a station. Because that would mean they’d be completely bankrupt; Loki could find a way to fix it for free, just not without a period of proper resting.

“So how many people _can_ we fit?” Thor asked, leaning forward. Loki raised a hand and created an illusion of the ship, based off the hologram, except this time he coloured in yellow the designated living spaces available to them and in purple the ones off-limits. The purple vastly outnumbered the yellow.

“And hygiene facilities?” Heimdall narrowed his eyes as further green spaces became lit to indicate usable facilities and black went for ones out of commission.

“The only good I can see in this is that at least Hela’s spike damaged mostly empty spaces,” Loki said. “Very little living space or important facilities are damaged, and systems are all intact.” _For now_. “Internal damage could be repaired using materials in the cargo bays.” They flashed pink for a second before Loki dismissed the image entirely.

“I wasn’t done looking at that!” Thor protested.

“I looked enough for all of us,” Loki told him. “We next need to look at the amount of people we have left. While we’re been talking I’ve been tallying up everyone.” He snatched the tally page from the air where it had been scribbling invisibly and placed it firmly on the table along with the list of people that particular fragment of his mind had been using to complete the task Loki’d set himself. (Being tortured by the Mind Stone had some useful side effects.)

“238 children below the age of 600,” Thor read out, “150 between the ages of 601 and 1000 – that’s a nice clean number,”

“It is indeed.” Loki and Heimdall agreed at the same time.

“Then we have 559 adults – further divided into 263 people between 1001 and 2500 – hey that’s me and Loki – 247 between 2501 and 4000, and then finally 49 above 4000. Which is leaving us with 25 people of different species or indeterminable age.” Thor put the papers down. “Interesting.”

“At least we won’t have trouble repopulating.” Loki said with a smirk.

“It’s a bit early to think about repopulating, Your Highness.”

“Why not? We’re on a cruise in space, there’s many nooks and crannies… it’s quite romantic if you think about it – there will be things going on soon enough. And you get to watch.” Loki added coyly, pretending to blush.

“Believe it or not, that is not what I spend my time doing.” Said Heimdall with the air of a tired parent.

“If I had your sight I would.” Loki informed him. His smile grew even bigger as he briefly imagined it before memories of Sakaar invaded his brain and Loki flinched away from that line of thought.

“In that case I believe it for the good of Asgard that you weren’t gifted with my sight.” There was a slight inflection in the way the last two words were spoken. Loki wondered how much about him Heimdall really knew.

“Shouldn’t we be focusing on _work_ , and not people’s _private business_?” Thor butted in peevishly.

“I rather agree.” Heimdall took an empty sheet of paper and looked expectantly at Loki before it clicked in his brain and he gave Heimdall a quill and pot of ink from his stores. Black ink, because Loki was saving the deep green for himself.

“You can keep them; I have enough.”

Together, they sorted through families and noted down those with young children or with a lot of them, as well as making sure orphans were noted down with those looking after them – much to everyone’s relief the poorer people of Asgard had taken to sorting out which children would go with who, and Heimdall had noticed the young woman that had taken charge of making rounds and making sure every child had a caretaker and that young people without family had people their age to be around. Inquiring her name, Loki jotted down ‘ _Alfid Formansdottir_ ’ and vowed to seek her out and set up a proper system to ensure that children were kept from running off and getting lost.

By this time, Loki had started conjuring up vast webs of names and rooms available, papers full of green ink scribbles floating all around. It was a standard arrangement of information for Loki, who had spent roughly half his life studying and developing theories on various topics, and Heimdall was taking it in stride – Loki’d never been to a _proper_ wartime council as any battles in his time had been relatively brief compared to what Heimdall had lived through but apparently such layout techniques were used in strategy making – something that Loki was happy about as that was how he planned _his_ conquests – but Thor was clearly flagging.

“For goodness’ sake Thor, where is your depth perception?” Loki snapped, completely pissed off after Thor collided with a paper and stumbled back in surprise into a constellation of green for the 16th time that hour.

“If you haven’t noticed,” Thor snapped back, eye and fingers crackling with electricity, “I don’t fucking _have_ depth perception anymore!”

“Okay, okay!” Loki backed away with his hands in the air, deftly ducking down to prevent messing up his work. “Fine, I’m sorry.” He sat down in a chair further down, crossing his arms. “There, I said it. Now lay off of me; I have work to do.”

“You’re not the only one.”

“Yes but I’m the one who will end up doing the most of it.” Loki began writing afresh as he talked. “I need to create proper lists of everyone present and documentation about who goes where from scratch-“

“You mean you’ll rewrite all my hard work?” Thor demanded, suddenly crestfallen as he stared at Loki and pages strewn all around him.

“Yes, Thor.” Loki sighed, cheek propped up on a hand. He should have expected this reaction.

“But I worked so _hard_ , are you sure nothing can be done-?”

“Yes, brother. I am sure.” This was trying his patience. Still, it would do no good for anyone for the King and his brother to have a fight over something so trivial. “You did a brilliant job by getting me the information I needed, but new circumstances call for rearranging of the way we keep records.”

“ _You_ keep records.” Thor clarified.

“Huh?”

“If this is what happens to my work, you can be in charge of manifests and sorting out rooms for the people.” It wasn’t visible, but Loki could sense the pout. He drew his mouth into a thin line, knowing exactly where this was going.

“Thor, be reasonable-“

“Heimdall can help you. I will take no more part in this. I’m eating in an hour, join me if you have time.” With that, Thor left the room. Loki growled at the closed door. Bastard. Thor _knew_ he wouldn’t be out of here for hours on end. And now Loki would end up looking the bad apple when he failed to show up to dine with the King; speaking to Thor in the middle of his task would ensure any capacity for logical thought was struck from his mind. _Bastard_.

Heimdall stayed for a time, but he impeded upon Loki’s thought process and in due time stood up and bade the Prince farewell before leaving him alone. Loki didn’t know how long he worked after that, but he spent the entire time slowly simmering in anger, building up complex configurations that ended up not working and having to start again whilst planning a dozen petty revenges. Unfortunately for his mood, when he finally put down (slammed into the table) the completed roomings and left the conference room, it was dark out in the corridors.

Loki took the care to aggressively show his most prized finger to Thor’s door – stained green by his personal ink appropriately – and quietly made his way down to the main hall. Thor was actually sleeping here, but Loki didn’t want to risk being seen and so somehow managed to restrain himself from repeating the gesture.

Food was the top priority by default now and so Loki found a note stuck to the stove that said _Closed for the night, extra food may be found in the storeroom to your left._ True to the note’s word, the storeroom indeed contained food as his extended senses told him before he entered. What his senses neglected to tell him about was the creature that’d once almost killed him and would gladly correct the mistake that was currently raiding a fridge.

“Hello?” Said Loki, unwilling to die but equally unwilling to go to bed hungry when food was _right there_.

“Puny God?” The Hulk turned to him, still holding some sort of meat in his hand. Loki tried to ignore that that piece of meat could have been him.

“Yes, it’s me.” Affirmed Loki, butterflies taking residence up in his empty stomach. “Should I turn on the light, it’s rather dark.”

“No. Hulk is fine in dark.”

“Okay then.” Loki was not too thrilled to stay in the same enclosed space as the beast in the dark, but then again would being able to see properly make much of a difference as he was being dismembered? No, it would not. And Loki wasn’t eager to see his own blood again. So he elected to simply go to the fridge furthest from the Hulk – and really wasn’t it somewhat insulting that his third-worst nightmare had to be his favourite and signature colour? – and hope for the best.

Having made his choice and placed his plate to be warmed – so the kitchen staff got _plates_ , huh – Loki espied a device he strongly suspected was a kettle and so that’s how he ended up offering the Hulk fancy, expensive, Aemian tea, courtesy of an old friend.

“Why would Hulk want tea?”

“It’s calming?” Probably the wrong thing to say, but the first that flew into Loki’s mind when confronted by someone who didn’t understand the point of tea. “Okay, scratch that, it’s-“

“Calm?” There was an almost childish expression of curiosity on the Hulk’s giant face.

“Yes, calm is what you feel when none of your emotions are roiling and you just feel nice where you are.”

“So no angry?” The Hulk’s entire face was screwed up in thought.

“No angry.” Loki nodded.

“But angry always there. I don’t want no angry.”

Loki shrugged. “Suit yourself. I was only offering to be polite anyway.” The Hulk perhaps was displeased by that, as he turned away and ate what Loki thought was a dessert but which was immediately followed by some sort of vegetable. Loki shrugged again, and sipped his tea.

A ding announced his dinner and so he edged around the mass of green and sat himself on a counter, drawing a leg up to his chest so that he could lean forward on it and free the food. A glorious liberator, framed by shadow and who was about to eat those whom he had just liberated. Tiredness was not a good look on his mental stability, Loki decided, summoning his cup to him and putting it down next to him as he began eating.

This was a far cry from the emotions he had experienced from eating food at mid-day-cycle and Loki could now fully appreciate the chemicals and preservatives living in his meal. Slightly dry too, the whole thing. Well, that wasn’t much of a surprise. Loki longed for some good actual fucking food, but he guessed this would have to suffice until they got to a station where they (he) could buy exactly what was required by his taste buds.

As it was, he wanted to talk and he had an inkling that the Hulk might want company, given how he hadn’t turned Loki out yet. Loki looked for a topic he might discuss at random and settled on the late time.

“Why are you eating _now_?” Loki asked, taking another sip of tea and frowning at the green beast.

“People no like Hulk, so Hulk receive no invite for food. Why _Puny God_ eat now? People like Puny God.” _I wouldn’t exactly call it that most of the time_.

“My brother made me work overtime so by the time I was ready people were sleeping and the food was put away.” Something about Hulk’s comment needled at him though, and eventually Loki paused in his eating to ask a second question. “You said you received no invite for food?” The way the Hulk had phrased that sounded slightly off to him.

“On Sakaar Hulk get invited to eat with Grandmaster and people. Nobody invited Hulk.” Interesting problem, that was.

“Oh, here you get to invite yourself.” Said Loki flippantly. “If you’re hungry and there’s food out, as long as you wait in line and don’t kill anyone you get food.” The Hulk stared at him, dismayed. “It sucks, I know,” Added Loki, sympathetic to the emotions no doubt going through the beast’s head. “But that’s life for us sad people now.”

“If Puny God hate it so, why does Puny God stay? Leave. Hulk no want you here anyway.”

It was the talk of a giant green creature with the mentality of a toddler. It shouldn’t have gotten to him. It somehow did.

“ _Hulk_ may not want me here, but others _do_.” Loki made the words forceful, hoping the Hulk would leave the topic alone. No such luck. (There was no such thing as luck for Loki)

“Angry Girl wishes you were gone. She told me.” The Hulk seemed almost proud to have a countering argument.

“Well I don’t particularly care for her opinion.” Loki said, dismissive, wishing it rang truer than it did.

“Puny God a liar.” The Hulk probably meant in general, but what Loki heard was something he didn’t want to have to process. So what if she didn’t want him here? So what if the green rage monster didn’t want him here? What did they matter to him? What did _anybody’s_ opinions matter to him?

Loki was a solitary creature, not built for company. (Why then did he long for it so?) He _was_ a liar, and an exceptional one at that. He could twist, manipulate, betray, deceive, kill; what were friends here to him when every move they made was dictated by him?

Worthless. They were worthless because everything was calculated, arranged. They might think they liked Loki, but they never really did. They liked the performance Loki was putting on for them, they liked the characters he played, not Loki. None of them ever really saw beneath the mask – or masks, Loki had lost count of how many he had. Maybe they didn’t know they existed. Maybe they were happy with the facsimile and didn’t want to look beneath the pretty wrapping paper.

Was the Loki who had hugged his brother the real Loki? Was the one who’d used the intercom to create a stupid speech the real one? Was the one who’d promised a woman he’d try to help her daughter the real him? _Was_ there a real one? Was there anything really left? Or was he an empty collection of lies huddled around a core that no longer existed? It wouldn’t surprise him. It probably wouldn’t even truly hurt him, if there was nothing left.

He was nothing.

Loki sprang from his hunched position on the counter, suddenly. He couldn’t stay here. He landed on the floor, swept towards the door, and ran out.

“What about tea, Puny God?” The Hulk called after him. Loki ignored him, narrowing his eyes against a stinging that did not belong there, breaking into a sprint, boots making no noise as they hit the floor, not paying attention where he was running until he’d arrived.

He was near Thor’s room, in the corridor where half of the single rooms were situated. They were all empty, at present. Loki, regretting wiping his eyes a moment prior and clenching his jaw, hard, to prevent wobbles, sent out wisps of his magic, hands raised in front of him, seeking… something. The answer came from a door to his right, two doors up and on the third.

Loki strode up to it, swiping a hand at the control panel operating the lock and ripping it clean off, letting it clatter on the floor. He kicked open the door, angry at himself for running away, and slammed it shut behind him, casting a strong ward around the entrance to prevent anybody entering and finding him here.

It was only then that he turned to view his surroundings. _An agreeable room_ , Loki decided, surveying the large bed, wardrobes, writing desk, chairs, and espying a private bathroom. He would spend the night here.

Loki stormed to the bed and threw himself down on it, part of him hoping to break it, another wanting to just bleed quietly out into the mattress. It was then that it occurred to him that he could have both his desires fulfilled. It’d been a while, probably a year and a half, since he’d taught himself out of this habit, but…

Loki summoned a dagger – one he’d purchased on the merchant planet Mezavis – and set the blade against the bit of wrist that was still exposed despite his long sleeves. A moment of consideration and he put it down again.

Loki went and used the bathroom, combed his hair, changed out of his clothes and into others – manually, this time. He avoided looking at the scar on his chest. He avoided acknowledging the slightly older markings that spilled from his back down over his shoulder and died down in dramatic curves and swirls. He didn’t look at his forearms until he was back sitting on the bed, weapon in hand.

There were thin white lines lying horizontally, each one below the previous, all the way from wrist to elbow, hidden on the inside sides of his arms. They were perfect, neat. None betraying the shaking in Loki’s hands as he drew that strange blade into his flesh, again and again. None betraying the tears. It was the way they had been liked. (Loki wished that they had been imperfect. That way he might have been able to pass them off as his own fervoured work.)

The blade he had this time was familiar, his. And it wouldn’t mark his flesh that way; Loki had always been able to heal and cover up spotlessly the damage he wrought on his own self. It was how nobody had caught on, those hundreds of years he had done this.

Loki lifted the dagger and set it against his skin, letting the cold metal chill seep in. If he just applied pressure now, or slid the dagger sideways, it would dig in. Something prevented him from making the first move.

It made him feel better; it would make him feel better. _Make him feel_. Loki knew that it was not something he should be doing. Normal people would be horrified. The child Loki would be horrified. But Loki was no longer with such innocent eyes as his younger self. Loki no longer thought like he had.

This Loki was a wreck. ( _Is that why you’re doing this? To break yourself down further? To make your flesh reflect what you’re like on the inside?_ ) This Loki was foolish, weak. ( _Do you really want this? Is this the right thing to do? You know it isn’t._ ) This Loki couldn’t accept what was good for him. ( _Is_ this _what is good? You might be broken, but this won’t help you._ ) He couldn’t accept that a part of him was missing. ( _That won’t be fixed with a sharp blade to your skin_.)

Loki felt his hand quiver. His resolve melting faster than he could freeze it back up. ( _Where is the ice in my veins when I finally_ need _it?_ ) He slowly let his hand move away. Stiffly, as if he were made of wood, Loki turned and carefully set the dagger onto his nightstand. He wouldn’t force himself into something he didn’t truly want.

_Another time._

\---------------------------------

Loki woke up feeling small, shattered. Vulnerable. The dagger was still on his nightstand, right at eye level.

He couldn’t remember what he’d dreamt, but a gut feeling told him it hadn’t been one of his usual nightmares. No, this was foreign, new, and equally petrifying. He knew where it came from: The Valkyrie.

He felt sorry for her, until he forced himself to scoff and push away the small amount of sympathy he harboured for Brunnhilde. He couldn’t afford to feel anything for someone who’d tried to kill him. ( _Does that reasoning apply to myself, I wonder?_ ) That drew away his conflicted feelings sufficiently well and made him focus on his current, more material, situation:

He was wrapped up in his own sheets, almost unable to move his limbs from the way he’d twisted himself into them. And he was hot. _Too_ hot. What he had mistaken for the humidity of some alien planet at first waking revealed itself to be damp sweat that surrounded him, soaking into his restraints. The realisation made Loki writhe like a wild creature to get free, fighting until one of his arms got free and he could drag the fabric off him.

Loki fell still, breathing hard, and cursed his nature freely. Anybody normal, anybody Asgardian, _anything_ that was not a monster would be alright. And Loki wasn’t. It was the little things that got to him. The knowledge that he _wasn’t right_. That he was different. That Thor would be able to withstand the warm temperature of his room.

Last night, as he’d fallen asleep, Loki had opened some of the wards that protected his body in order to allow more cosmic energy than usual to seep in and replenish the supplies lost during the day. The reason this had been a bad idea was that he couldn’t hold it in. Which was what in turn had raised the temperature of his surroundings – to an almost unacceptable level, may Loki add. At least this increased energy broadened the scope of what he could do today. Or not.

He, slightly dizzy from the heat, got up and walked to his bathroom, taking a cold shower in an attempt to bring his temperature down, and wash away the annoying stickiness. It was only afterwards, and with a quick spell cast to decrease the temperature of the room at large, thank you very much, that Loki noticed the piece of paper on the floor as he was bending down to lace up his boots.

He straightened, and went to pick it up. It was a summons to Thor’s room, reason undeterminable from the short message. Loki couldn’t help but feel uncharitable towards his brother at the present moment, still remembering what his actions had nearly driven him to last night – now with the benefit of sleep Loki almost couldn’t believe what he had considered doing to himself. (Oh no, he definitely _could_ believe.)

He had been stupid, and sleep deprived, he knew, but _still_. And now Thor wanted to use him, _again_ , and Loki couldn’t help but feel bitter that after all this (Thor didn’t know what leaving you to work alone would lead to, he would have tied himself to you with chains if he knew what you do to yourself) he was _still_ only a means to an end. Like father, like son, after all.

Loki bit the inside of his cheek and put the note down. He’d have breakfast after hearing whatever was required of him now. (How _dare_ Thor think he could boss Loki around like this, how dare he and all the rest of them take Loki for granted?)

Still feeling disgruntled, and pushing away the knowledge that really, none of this was his brother’s intent, Loki opened his door and stepped out into the corridor. To Thor’s room it was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of the darker tags on this thing come into play this chapter, so beware. Discussion of self-harm and some good old fantastic racism.
> 
> Next chapter will be up Thursday, 11th June, which is my birthday!
> 
> Of course, be sure to tell me what you think of this, all the love <3


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki has a conversation with his brother, a sort of peace is made, and some work is finally done on _that damn hole_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! It's my birthday (and no, I'm not telling you which one), and here is the promised chapter! I've really been looking forward to posting this, so I really hope it was worth it.
> 
> Enjoy!

Thor was standing with his back to the door, and consequently, Loki. Loki announced his arrival with a dry cough, prompting Thor to turn and face him. Loki stared forward, expressionless. Waiting for the purpose of this summoning. Thor smiled at him. His radiant, warm smile that had earned him so many friends while Loki was left with none. Loki tried very hard not to hate him for it afresh now.

“Loki, I have a favour to ask of you.”

Loki sighed. It always came down to this between them, didn’t it? Some sweet words to smooth things over, then favour after favour to keep things that way.

“Ask away, brother.” Thor seemed to notice the weariness of the words. He frowned.

“Is something wrong?” It was almost jarring for Thor to ask those sort of questions. A lifetime away, Loki would have summoned a mask and mocked him for his words – now, they only had each other. He didn’t want to lose this, not again, not anymore. The question became more insistent. “Loki? Is something wrong?” Thor had come closer, and was cupping his face. It took all Loki had not to throw off that contact, _too reminiscent of_ \- he only flinched violently in the end. There was a question about that too, in Thor’s eye, but he _had_ to have no idea, Thor was stupid, Thor was naïve, Thor was apparently a lot more mature than he’d realised – Thor couldn’t _know_. Not about _that_ , not _now_.

Loki made himself meet his brother’s eyes – no, _eye_ , he had to get used to that – and felt himself tremble, something in him finally cracking. “Why do you always do this?” His eyes stung and his voice came out uneven. There was confusion in Thor’s gaze.

“Do what? What have I done now?” The words would have stung a week ago, accusing as they always had been. But the tone was softer, imploring, and Loki wondered how long Thor’d been trying to connect, to understand, only for Loki to push him away? The thought and the regret that came with it made him long to clutch at Thor again, let his tears overtake him. He wouldn’t quail. This time wouldn’t be like the others.

“ _Every_ _time_ you _want_ something from me, no matter what I do – what I _did_ – it’s never enough for you. For you and Odin both. It’s sweet words every time, _Loki, we’ve been fighting long enough, let’s make up, I love you, don’t you love me too?_ , then _Loki, would you do this for me? Would you do that?_ ” Loki heard the mocking edge to his voice as he mimicked Thor. _“When will I finally be GOOD ENOUGH?”_ He hated the way his voice cracked, hated the way the tears sprung up, hated how he dropped his head to Thor’s chest to hide them.

“Loki, you have always been good enough.” The reassurance in his brother’s tone didn’t quite hide the fear and bewilderment.

_“Lies.”_ Loki hissed through streaming tears, long overdue from yesterday, feeling them roll down his cheeks and drip off, one by one.

“It has _never_ been a lie, I love you and that is what matters! You are _more_ than just the _uses_ someone might have for you.” Loki flinched again. Norns, Thor was really vehement about this. Pretending whilst the truth was clearly visible.

_“Always lies.”_

“Loki-“ His brother sounded stricken. _Wait until you hear all I’ve done, you’ll be clambering to open the airlocks and get rid of me then._

Then, suddenly, he saw the true question:

“Why is it _I_ who is the snake and not you?” The words stung his tongue. _He_ wasn’t the one who had pretended all these years, who’d _lied_ about love, about honour, about _family_. (Neither is Thor, he doesn’t deserve this any more than you do.)(What’s to say I _don’t_ deserve this? Monsters always deserved their punishments in the old stories.)

“Because people rely only on what they _see_ , not what you _are_.” The certainty in the words hurt. _If only that were true, I’d be a very different person._

“It’s a good thing, then. They’ll set me in a cage and use me for sport.” Thor jerked, and Loki smiled to himself, knowing Thor couldn’t see it. He felt himself being pulled in, and reflexively softened (you keep telling yourself that) against Thor’s bulk. Fingers slid through his hair; he let out a soft whimper. Somehow that’d always worked on him.

“I’ll never let _anyone_ use your suffering for their entertainment, Loki. I swear it. You are what you are, and I love you for it, and _nobody_ can convince me otherwise. Don’t push yourself down for something that is a part of you as surely as your magic-“ Loki felt himself twitch at the comparison, “or your wit, or your clever tongue, or your penchant for mischief.” Thor drew back, only to make Loki look at him. His voice had gone thicker as he’d spoken, and now Loki could see something glistening in Thor’s eye through his own haze. “I wanted to ask you to help me, not as a subordinate, but as my brother. Because _I need you_ here, at my side, where you’ve always had a place. _Your_ place.” It was, for once, what he’d needed to hear. Loki wondered when he’d stopped hearing that as an insult, a leash, and turned it into a place of honour, or at least one worth his shattered pride. Perhaps the four years of distance and ghosting had helped. Maybe it was the sudden losses of Odin – _their father_ – and of golden Asgard herself (his home). Maybe they’d changed. Or a mix of all three.

He wrapped his arms around Thor in the first hug he’d initiated in- oh, it had been a few centuries. The fingers in his hair released, and he felt himself being crushed as arms wrapped around him, holding him tight. A smile cracked through, and he let it stay.

“Now,” He said, softly disentangling himself, “What is it that you needed?”

\-----------------------------------

Loki squared his shoulders and marched over to where Valkyrie (her name is Brunnhilde) was draining a bottle. He snatched it away and smashed it, before he had the chance to reconsider his course of action. He reconsidered it shortly, when she aimed a punch at him in retaliation. Loki blocked it, slipping a dagger into his hand and pointing it at her throat. Drunk as she was, Valkyrie apparently had the sense to refrain from attacking again.

“You had no right to do that,” She slurred instead. Loki let the dagger drop and took a step back.

“I had _every_ right to do that, I am second in command-“

“Who let _you_ be second?”

Loki made his face twist in affront that maybe wasn’t as faked as he would have liked. “I am the King’s brother,”

_“Traitor brother.”_ She half-whispered, leaning heavily against the side of the ship. So it hadn’t taken long for that to spread, even with his current shining reputation as Saviour.

“I secured us this ship,”

“We both know how you got those codes,” She smiled at him in a manner that made his blood run cold. (Isn’t it always?)

“I am the only trained Asgardian sorcerer to survive.”

“And the one who set Surtur free,”

_“At the orders of my brother, the KING!”_ Loki almost shouted.

“He hasn’t been crowned.”

Loki took a deep breath. She was trying to antagonise him into leaving her alone, in a brutally familiar way. Right now the only effect was his boiling blood as he resisted the urge to cast a spell that would make her soberer than she’d been in a millennium.

“We need your help, not your drunken words of _wisdom_.” That seemed to get her attention, a little.

“Why would you need _my_ help?”

“You don’t get to slack off; Asgard is weaker than she has ever been in our written history; our people are weary, traumatised, and injured. I have been _trying_ to get some order in here; I’ve been spending hours in the main hall healing others; I am at my wit’s end – and _you_ , my _dear_ _Brunnhilde_ , have been wasting good alcohol and _drinking_.” Loki could feel the derision in his unfiltered, tired voice and let it _flow_. (The cry had been good for him, but it seemed that every cathartic thing that happened to him had some sort of backlash upon his self.)

“How do you know my name.” She was staring at him belligerently, tense and coiled as an animal cornered. Funny, given all her brashness and outward aggression.

“We shared a rather intimate moment, did we not?” Loki sent her a sharp smile. (One that I paid for last night.) “I took the liberty of finding out something as _simple_ as your name. Nothing more.”  
“Nothing _less_. I haven’t given you permission to call me that. I am a Valkyrie, nothing more.”

“Look here, _Valkyrie_ , I think we got off on the wrong foot.”

She scoffed. “You _think_?”

“I’d like to mend that.” Surprise flickered on her face, before it descended into wariness.

“And why should _I_ trust your _noble intentions_?”

“I had my reasons for doing what I did in the past, as I’m sure you have your reasons for what you did that millennia on Sakaar. I did not come here to be berated for my deeds and dubious reputation, I came here to _implore_ you to take part in salvaging what is left of your home. You need not look for elaborate schemes, as I’m too tired to think straight – not that I am, or ever was.” He caught her lips quirk, “I am willing to pass a truce on whatever happened between us. Are you?”

Valkyrie (Brunnhilde) narrowed her eyes, no doubt looking for something. Loki met her gaze evenly, and something in that apparently gave him some credibility. She gestured him forward, and Loki came. When he was close enough, one of her fists found his collar and dragged him down.

_“You shall not mention the Valkyries or what I did on Sakaar,”_ She hissed with startling ferocity. _“And in return I won’t mention what you did.”_ Not hearing about what he had been reduced to? ( _The Grandmaster’s whore is the only thing you were fit to be_.) That sounded good to him. He pulled away and straightened up.

“Deal.” He held out a hand. “Shall we?”

She glared at him a moment longer, but Loki kept it there. She took his hand and he pulled her up. She grinned, somewhat forced, somewhat dark around the edges, but there. “Where do we begin, Your Highness?

Loki flashed a fanged grin back. He suddenly had a very good idea of how the Avengers had assembled themselves.

\---------------------------------

“Okay, this is probably the stupidest thing I’ve ever done!” Valkyrie shouted at him over the loud thumping of his own heart.

“Stupider than drinking your brains out every waking moment for a millennium?” He shot back. She sent him a dirty look and pressed the big red rectangular button in the control panel. Loki felt something in the ship shift and braced himself, extending his magic so a substantial amount of air surrounded the two of them. When Thor found out that this was what they were doing he’d probably flip out on them – he’d sent Loki to work with Valkyrie but had never specified on _what_ and so Loki had taken the liberty of getting his own priorities done and sorted. Hopefully it’d be without a lightning shower. He wasn’t too keen to recreate the excruciating experience with the Obedience Disks and, he suspected, neither was Valkyrie. If she’d ever felt the current running through her. With the Grandmaster and his favourites, it had always been a guessing game what each of them received behind closed doors. He’d received quite a lot, and given so, so much more.

The airlocks opened. Loki gasped and flinched as sudden icy coldness swept through him, and a light tug on the rope around his waist told him that Valkyrie must have had a similar reaction. He stepped through the thick metal doors, pulling on the rope to tell her to follow him.

“I need you close so that I can keep air and warmth around us,” He told her.

“I’m sure you want me close for different reasons too,” she said, looking down into the cold abyss of space. Loki felt a prickle of unease.

“How much do you know about my past?” He demanded, suddenly incredibly insecure about this whole idea. He moved further along, grateful for the magic (his magic) that kept him and Valkyrie rooted.

“Not much, why?”

“Nothing relevant.” Oh, what a big lie that was. Loki leaned out from the deck and looked down. They were standing on the highest deck the damage had touched, and Loki was beginning to worry that the rope wasn’t long enough. He’d need to get to the bottom of the ship, some 25 metres down, and start repairing from there. They needed the utility corridors. “I’ll need to jump down.” He told Valkyrie, stomach lurching uneasily as he imagined losing his footing and falling into the darkness…

She frowned in his direction. “How will the oxygen and warming spells work then?”

Loki resisted correcting her in that that wasn’t how his magic worked. “If you come to the edge and I can see you, they should be perfectly fine.”

“Okay.” For the first time, Loki heard a slight tremble in her voice. He didn’t know if he should be reassured or scared by the fact that she was also apparently on the verge of losing her nerve. Without thinking too much (thinking too much), he waited until she was close enough to touch and let himself drop down to the level below. He’d always hated the underlevels of ships. This one, with the gaping hole through which to drop through wasn’t any better.

He glanced up. Valkyrie met his eyes. She was definitely on edge. He tore away and dropped down again. A few more times, a very close call at the jagged edge of one level that almost had Loki leaping into space at impact, and he was at the bottom. He surveyed the scene, scanning the damage. The metal had been forced up in strips, twisted and melted out of place. Loki gathered his magic and bent to the floor, letting his hands touch it and sending exploratory pulses of energy out.

“What are you doing?” They were running out of air, slowly but surely. He’d only have time to fix the big one. Once that was done, and it was checked that air couldn’t escape, they’d fill it with oxygen and send in engineers or smiths to reinforce the metal, reconstruct the pathways that had been damaged by Hela. Loki chose to not reply. If Valkyrie knew what he was trying to do, she’d rush to stop him. As it was, that would just leave the two of them hanging in space dead as he lost all focus and let the air go.

He dug for the deep (depleted) pools of magic within him and breathed slowly, gathering his concentration. Then he pushed the energy out of him. He heard Valkyrie make a choked noise of surprise as green light seared into his retinas, the metal turning almost liquid as he forced it down, down, back into its proper place (Know your place, brother. _I do. And it’s nothing we could have foreseen back then_.), the spell burning into his skin, into his everything, his breathing harsh and quick and laboured and his heart beating out of control, his brain was hurting and he was lightheaded and- and he almost slipped his hold on the minor workings keeping him (them) alive, and he was losing energy too fast, he _couldn’t_ -

_Use the Tesseract._ He couldn’t. It’d consume him- _No it won’t, Laufeyson._ Loki, he corrected, _Loki_. _You are its master. It is to you that it has bonded. And it is to you that it will lend its power._ You couldn’t be the true master of something more powerful than you. That was a lesson Loki had learned, both in theory and in practice. He pushed the temptation away. If this killed him – killed _them_ – then at least- at least Th- couldn’t get to it. No harm done. (All the harm done to your brother.)

He felt the metal fuse together, energy flowing unimpeded once again. Loki kept the spell going for a moment more, then released the flow of energy. Dizziness rushed over him and for a moment Loki was certain he would faint, and then it would all have been for nothing; they were going to suffocate here. He gradually became aware of someone calling his name and talking rapidly – almost to themselves – then put a face and a name to that someone and forced his harsh breathing into something slightly more measured before daring to look up.

“-Lackey you rat-faced idiot, what were you thinking- I swear if you do not- ah there you are finally paying attention you nasty little- oh shit are we running out of air- we’d _better_ not be running out of air, get back up here you stupid snake-”

It took him an embarrassingly long time to decipher the furious ranting of the Valkyrie, glaring down at him as she paced the ledge. Loki got shakily to his feet and managed to pull himself one, two levels up using the forced-up metal as a ladder before he- couldn’t. His arms wouldn’t hold him, the world was blackening and if he continued… he couldn’t. His vision tilted and he caught himself on the rope. He heard Valkyrie hiss above him.

“Are you planning on coming up here anywhere in the next week, Your Highness?”

“Can’t-“ He forced out, breathing hard and shallow. Shame burned bright at his insides but those facinorous flames were smothered quickly by the exhaustion and cold dragging at him. “Need- need to get ou- out of here be- before I-“

“Shit. Shit. Shit, okay, okay, Lackey, hang on-“

“Call me Lackey again and I’ll kill us both.” Loki said, perfectly clear for all his previous attempts to talk had slurred. The temperature dropped sharply. Loki was unsure whether this was an unconscious allusion to his threat or if things were just going to get _very bad_ from here on.

He must have blinked out because a moment later he was being hauled up and it was all he could do to cling on and push himself up on pieces of metal where possible. Then a _warm_ hand was offered and he grabbed onto it and he could feel his breath wheezing and so was Valkyrie’s and _oh no get us to the airlock doors_ now _, Brunnhilde_.

They stumbled into the smallish section, and Loki felt himself sink onto a hard floor and then something beeped and he had just enough sense left to not let go of the air before the sound of hydraulics announced the way to the main ship corridors being opened and oxygen-rich air rushed in and they’d done it and he snapped the threads of magic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did you think? Please tell me, I'm dying to hear what you have to say.
> 
> Thanks for reading, see you next Thursday!


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki and the Valkyrie have a civil conversation, of a sort.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The direct aftermath of what happened last chapter, hopefully it lived up to expectations!
> 
> Thank you for the comments, and as always, be sure to enjoy the chapter!

Someone was shaking him and he didn’t like it. So he swatted it away. Or tried to. Loki was frozen. And the realisation set his heart pounding and his breathing quickening until he realised that he wasn’t _actually_ frozen – just too drained to move. He slumped (he was already slumped but he somehow managed to slump down even further) and slowly began drawing out his surroundings. Voices, all around, some quiet, others, much closer – shouting nearby. He blurrily forced his eyes open, wincing as the light made his eyes water and pain spike through his skull.

Blurs, lots of blurs. One of the blurs, a more familiar blur, was closer than all the rest.

“Valkyrie?”

“ _Now_ he responds. How _dare_ you just drop off like that!”

Loki blinked. “I wasn’t aware I’d dropped off. I thought we were still on the ship.”

“What the hell are you talking about? Of course we’re still on the ship- don’t tell me you’re delusional.”

“Delusional?” None of this was making any sense. His head swam and he closed his eyes again, focusing on breathing deeply.

“Your eyes glowed – you know that?” Loki opened his eyes with a jerk. He hadn’t thought it possible. Not after what Thanos had done to his magic. Loki’s heart swelled in his chest, and he had to keep himself from grinning widely. He was still capable – on some level – of drawing on his power the way he’d used to. Before Thanos. Before his Fall. “Loki- LOKI. What does that mean? You’re zoning out on me again, aren’t you?”

Loki shook himself. “No, I’m not zoning out, not at all, everything’s fine, everything’s peachy-“ He cut off halfway through the sarcastic lie. It would do no one no good to have that attitude. He met her eyes. “You need to take me to a room so I can rest. I’m falling apart and I can’t- I can’t-“ With a pit of dread in his chest Loki realised that his composure was splitting apart and fracturing much faster than he could handle, and he couldn’t do anything to stop it.

“Okay.” Valkyrie had caught wind of his panic (or so Loki assumed) and was reacting… accordingly? What even was ‘according’ to anything that was happening? “Okay. I’ll do that. I’ll do that and then later you can tell me what the Hel that was.”

Loki didn’t particularly want to tell her. Something was telling him that he wouldn’t have a choice in the matter when Thor got involved. A childish part of him insisted that he didn’t _want_ to tell them what he could do, what he knew about the universe. That was _his_ to covet, to know, to _feel_. A smaller part than that whispered _you’re scared of what they’ll do to you, aren’t you? If they’ll see need to monitor you more closely, restrict your freedom, or your magic. You know it’s a possibility. And this ship belonged to the Grandmaster. You think he doesn’t have anything on board to incapacitate you? It’s only a matter of when._

At least he’d keep the truth of what Thanos did to him hidden. He didn’t want to think about all he had lost. He didn’t want to face it. He just was so very, very, tired…

\----------------------------------

She’d picked him up and carried him to a room. Loki was dimly impressed, still too worn to consider the embarrassment that would have arisen had he been properly aware of the stares of the people they’d passed. She deposited him in a bed, and he worked to steady his breathing as much as possible. He couldn’t lift his head and was fully aware of how helpless he was, in the unlikely event (he judged) that she would turn on him.

Loki took stock of himself. He would need to sleep, to replenish the energy lost – likely a full ten hours, if not more. He wouldn’t fight himself on that front, but was growing increasingly concerned as he fought his way back to coherency about just who could find him here, and if they would wish him harm. He knew that Heimdall knew what they had done – Loki hadn’t bothered concealing himself and hadn’t really considered renewing the enchantments that had typically kept him out of sight since that first morning meeting with the Hulk – but since Thor had not yet arrived he could assume that he had been kept in the dark about this particular incident. He hoped that Valkyrie would keep her mouth shut until he could defend himself.

His throat was parched. He opened his mouth to say so, but the grating that resulted from his attempt to speak made him wince. Valkyrie had remained with him, drawing up a chair and dropping heavily into it. He wondered briefly where all the furniture on this ship came from. Could it have been a slaver’s ship, with room for the slaves? A very large crew? A transport vessel for an army? He doubted it would have mattered when it had ended up on Sakaar, and it certainly didn’t matter now, since the ship was of no particular make he could discern and so unlikely to be the target of someone wanting their property back. Which reminded him of another problem. Pirates-

“You want water?” A voice interrupted his thoughts. Valkyrie. Loki tilted his head so that he could look up at her and slowly focussed on her face. She held up a bottle and swished it from side to side in front of his face. He made himself nod. She helped him drink some (embarrassing, why was everything in his life embarrassing) and Loki lay limp on the bed afterwards. He needed to ask for- for _something_.

“Valkyrie-“

“You can call me Val, you know? Less formal.” Loki agreed that it was a lot less formal. More of a nickname and less of a title.

“But not Brunnhilde.” He said wearily. She flinched and he almost regretted saying it.

“No… We’re not there yet.” _Yet_. Loki took that and tucked it away somewhere safe. Pretending it meant something other than a slip of the tongue, which it had to be – when had he actually started wanting to know the Valkyrie? “I don’t want to hear… my name spoken so casually, as if- as if nothing happened.” She sounded shaky now. Loki could tell that she was considering leaving and going for more alcohol. He didn’t want to be left alone right now.

“I understand.” Loki said softly. She glared at him. “What?” He said, suddenly defensive. “I was a ghost for four years, wandering about in the guise of my father, hearing my own name whispered in corners and then abruptly cut off at my coming. How do you think I felt, my very being a spirit haunting the palace whilst I was _right there_?” The glare had eased off into a more thoughtful expression.

“I think I misjudged you, Loki.” The first time she’d used his name in a civil conversation.

“Hm?” He was going to make her say it.

“You’re not what I first took you for. I knew the way you behaved in front of the Grandmaster was an act, but I didn’t realise how _big_ of one. You might still be a slut, but…”

Loki felt a wave of annoyance and abject humiliation. He hated the way his blood was rising to his cheeks in a high flush. “ _Slut?_ That’s all I get? Thanks. Really.”

“I said it all wrong.” She actually sounded guilty. _What for?_ Loki wanted to laugh in her face. _What’s so bad, you just told me what you think of me. Nothing to be ashamed in that. Want me to turn over and stick my ass in the air so you can have a turn too? Fuck me into the mattress?_ He didn’t say it – just let the words swirl about in his head unspoken and furious.

“Damn right you did.” He struggled to push himself up on his elbows. “Care to elaborate on the depths of my sluttiness?”

“Loki I really didn’t mean that.” Steady voice, as if he were a frightened _animal_. ( _You are_.)

“I know.” He wouldn’t let his voice shake. “But you said it so it must have been in there somewhere.”

“It’s not _all_ I think of when I see you-“

“ _I am not the Grandmaster’s whore!_ ” It burst out of him almost as a scream and at least Valkyrie had the decency to flinch back and look like it actually affected her.

“I never said you were-“ She said, volume rising.

Loki pushed himself up on his elbows, voice rising accordingly. “You meant it-“

“I did not-“

“-because I know you saw-“

“I know you’re more than- saw what-“

“-you watched it happen-“

“I didn’t know you then-“

 _“-AND YOU DID NOTHING!_ ” Loki hadn’t noticed the tears arrive but there the bastards were, sliding down his face. He was going to break down now. He knew it. He turned away so she could only see him in profile. _As if that hides anything. You’re a broken thing, and now she can see just how much of you is false bravado when you can barely live in your own body_. “I- I can’t process what- what he- what he did to- to me- and you’re here- AND _you’re_ here joking about how- how- _how could you say that to me?_ How can you possibly justify saying that to me, Val, _how could you_?” (Justifying actions, huh? How about you try justifying your own?)

Silence reigned for a moment and he took the opportunity to twist and dive down on the bed to bury his face into a pillow, hiding away. He hadn’t meant to steer the conversation this way. But this was what he did, right? Destroy worthwhile and meaningful moments with his own drama (trauma). There was no way he could ever work with Val again now. Nor did he particularly want to. Another bridge burned, just another day in his _rotten_ , _worthless_ life.

So it came as a bit of a surprise when a hand hesitantly landed on his shoulder. Loki stopped breathing for a second, shallow, choking inhales of air cut off abruptly. It’s Val, he knows it is, and he didn’t know what to do with this information. What he did know is that he’d just been given a chance.

“I’m- sorry.” He managed to choke out, still shaking and knowing, oh Norns, _knowing_ she was judging him and cataloguing all his weaknesses. “I _know_ you don’t owe me anything. It would have been worse had you cared enough to intervene.” It was true, and that was what hurt. He had been a fool to expect anything. And he hadn’t even _known_ he had been expecting anything from her.

“I shouldn’t have brought it up.” Val spoke after a moment. Loki twitched and turned slightly to communicate his interest in the statement. What a peculiar stance. People usually leaped at the chance to attack once he revealed even a shred of weakness. “I promised not to mention it. It’s my fault.” So she had. But yet…

“No, I shouldn’t have stayed long enough to give you the chance.” He shouldn’t be saying this. Shouldn’t be saying any of this. “I’m endangering everyone on this ship. I’m unpredictable and dangerous. You should have me chained up.” His heart stuttered in his chest but he forced the next words out; they had to be said, let no one claim he hadn’t given them the option himself. “And throw me into space.” He dared to lift his head. Terrified that she’d agree; afraid that she’d let him stay. She looked moderately horrified.

“I don’t understand how we got here. Does your brain always circle back to killing yourself?”

Loki blinked. “I guess.” He hadn’t taken the time to ever think about it but… that was what had been running through his head for years, wasn’t it?

She rolled him over to his back and he let her. He lay there, breathing shallowly, slowly transitioning to deeper, calmer breaths. Val stayed silent as he brought himself back under control, looking away with a pained expression. Thinking, but _what_? When he could think clearly enough to realise what he’d said, what could be inferred from what he’d disclosed, he wanted to kick himself. At least he’d stopped crying. He didn’t doubt that there’d be blotches to betray him should anybody enter.

“I think you need to sleep.” Val said eventually.

“What?” It was evident, of course. But it wasn’t what he had expected given his admission.

“You being suicidal is not something we can fix, at least right now. The best thing to do now for you is sleep; we can talk with your brother and figure something out-“

“ _No!_ ” She cut off and raised an eyebrow at him. “Don’t tell Thor. And please don’t tie me up. Or my magic.” He sounded so pitifully pleading. Like a small child, or a kicked puppy asking what it did to deserve this treatment.

“Who said anything about tying you up, Loki?” He said nothing. “I mean, if you’re into it…” She made a loose gesture with her hands. He sent her a withering glare. “Okay, okay, not the time, I get the message Your Highness. But get it out of your head and out of your system that we’re here as your jailers. I have no interest in playing that part on this ship.”

“And if Thor asks it of you?” Loki asked, voice low.

“Thor resorted to sending you to mobilise me. I doubt he’d push it.” She retorted. Loki opened his mouth and she pressed a finger over his lips. It felt good. For a patronising gesture. Actually for all gestures. “And if you honestly believe your brother will have you restrained after all the useful stuff you’re doing you’re just stupid. It’s an incurable condition, I’m so sorry Your Highness.”

He saw the attempt to lighten up and seized it. “Very funny, but I’d say I’m suffering from Paranoia.”

“Yes, my sincerest apologies, you are correct.” So she _could_ act – very contrite, very good. “You are suffering from a severe condition that makes you see only the worst in every situation, people and in yourself.”

“Ha ha.” Loki paused. “And I suppose you can see the _good in me_?” He mocked. He knew it was there; he’d stopped trying to fuel himself on his anger and hatred (no point provoking the dead) and forced himself to acknowledge that he wasn’t what Thanos had tried to make him. But Val was hardly the person who would battle with him to try and prove his benignity of nature.

“Don’t be like that, I hardly know you. I’m not interested in having this discussion now and neither should you.”

“Sorry.” Loki closed his eyes for a moment before opening them again. “I don’t feel safe here.”

Thankfully, she didn’t tell him he was being stupid. “Why?” ( _She’s probably used to discarded fucktoys_.)

“You’ll leave in a moment and then anyone who wants to do away with me will have the chance to do just that.” Why he was telling the truth was beyond him. Repeating _God of Lies_ over and over in his head didn’t help.

“If you want-“ Val cut herself off, brow wrinkling. “What I am I saying?”

A strange feeling was weaving its way into his core. “I believe you were moments away from offering to stay here with me.” Now that the words were out he felt anxiety clench in his gut. Val frowned.

“Do you _want_ me to?”

Now wasn’t that the question? Loki hesitated – and he knew she could see him hesitating. It was a battle between his pride and his need for _someone_ to be there. His took a deep breath:

“Yes. If it wouldn’t be a bother.” He did. He wanted her to stay. _She_ might not question him when he woke up screaming.

“A bother? Who’re you kidding, I don’t have anything to do.” She sat back and crossed her arms.

A wry smile on his face. “You could. If you asked for it.” She sent him a sharp look.

“You _are_ aware of the double meaning, yes?”

“Of course, who do you take me for?” Loki feigned being offended. He carefully did not mention Sakaar.

“Just checking.” She stood up and Loki felt a pang of disappointment. He masked his expression. She didn’t have to know. “Well, Your Highness, I believe there’s alcohol nearby. If you could wait for a moment, in a few hours it’ll be you nursing me and my hangover.”

“You’re _staying_?”

“Duh. You as good as asked me to, remember? And I _told_ you I don’t have anything else to do. Might as well get drunk with your sleeping body close by.”

“Should I be concerned by that wording?”

“Be whatever you like, Lackey.” That was the sign that any meaningful conversation was over.

“ _Loki_.”

She pulled a crate from under his bed. Loki lifted his eyebrows. “You got a sixth sense regarding alcohol, or?”

“You got a sixth sense for stupid remarks?”

“No, it’s called magic. _That’s_ my sixth sense. My seventh is my ability to come up with good comebacks. Which this decidedly isn’t. Or maybe that was my inability to avoid perilous situations.”

“You’re blabbering and spouting nonsense.” She told him bluntly. He was. Loki swallowed and dug his fingers into the edge of the mattress, searching for the covers. Val was kind enough to pause in selecting her drink (what selecting was there to do? As far as Loki could tell it was all swill) and help him out. “Roll over,” She instructed, tugging it out from under him. Loki grunted in response, doing his best to move his weight out of the way. He might be coherent, but he was also so, so tired.

A popping noise brought him back. He’d started to drift, still turned to one side. Loki shoved himself in order to lie on his back and pulled the covers over himself. Val raised a bottle to him.

“Sweet dreams.” (As if either of them knew what that felt like anymore.)

Loki closed his eyes and tucked an arm under his head, turning more fully towards her. The covers created a comfortable pressure. Comforting. He let out a quiet sigh as he let go of the ledge. (He almost didn’t notice the Fall, this time.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what did you think? *wags imagined tail like an excited dog* This has been waiting around on my computer for a very long time, so I really hope it came out as nicely as it was in my head. 
> 
> Love you all <3


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Someone_ isn't overly happy about the little stunt Loki and Val pulled. At least nobody got hurt this time?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm posting this several hours later than I should, I'm sorry. I haven't looked over the whole chapter, but I hope it's up to scratch and as always thank you for your comments.
> 
> Enjoy!

He surfaced slowly, cocooned in warmth and feeling energy swirling under his skin. His limbs were relaxed but no longer dragged down by exhaustion. He felt more awake than he had since before Sakaar.

Loki wondered how long he’d slept. The room smelled vaguely of alcohol and only then did he realise that he could hear deep breathing, besides his own. He pushed his head up, propping himself up on his elbow, noting that he was in much the same position as the one he’d fallen asleep in. Val was slumped in the chair beside him, fast asleep. Then he noticed their problem.

Thor was standing by the closed door, arms crossed as he looked down on them. Loki sent him a quick grin hoping it would improve relations. Thor’s brows furrowed and then cleared.

“Loki, care to explain?” His voice was… not angry, exactly. Maybe annoyed and not just a _bit_ grumpy. It could have been worse. A lot worse, really.

Loki bit his lip. “Well… how much do you know about the partnership you sent me to create?”

“If you mean to ask me whether I know about the little stunt you and Valkyrie pulled, I do.” Oh boy, he didn’t sound happy.

Loki sat up and leaned forward, both nervous and eager to hear what Thor thought. He really needed to do something about this _need_ for approval; it simply wouldn’t do long-term. “And?”

“And you should have asked me before attempting such a dangerous task.”

“That’s all?” Loki couldn’t keep the wariness out of his voice. He leaned back against the wall, hoping to at least look casual.

“What else am I meant to say, _my dear brother_? Do you expect me to shout at you about the risks? How you might have, I don’t know, _warned_ somebody before tying a _rope_ around yourselves and going out into the _vacuum of space_? I do not believe that you were unaware of the sheer idiocy of the task. Yet you went ahead and did it anyway.” Loki felt his mouth dry up. He quickly scanned the floor for any sign of the water Val had given him, but it was futile amongst the wreckage of shattered glass and empty bottles. No doubt Thor was probably reading his gaze as a survey of the damage he’d helped create. Or as a sign that he was looking for more alcohol. Which was completely unjust, seeing as Loki hadn’t touched a _drop_.

“It needed to be done.” He said finally, not meeting Thor’s even gaze. He could sense the emotions roiling through his brother, tingeing the air with an ozone smell and threatening to upset Loki’s own. He’d been so good at ignoring this, before. Now he needed to struggle to keep his composure.

“I know, I live on this ship too.” Thor’s voice was now unnervingly calm. What did he want from him? What did he want Loki to do about this? He couldn’t ask him outright, but hadn’t a lack of communication always plagued their family? Maybe he _should_.

“I don’t know what you want from me.” He decided upon.

“And I don’t know what _you_ want from _me_.” Thor replied, frustration seeping into his features and growing ever more pronounced in his tone.

“What _I_ want?” Loki didn’t have to fake the disbelief. “I was just sleeping; you’re the one who came in here.”

“After I learn from a concerned citizen that my brother – with the Valkyrie in tow no less – had just come back from the locked-off regions of the ship and then promptly collapsed! When I showed up here, she was passed out, you were lying limp on a bed – what was I meant to think? This obviously calls for attention – what sort I cannot tell you.” _The exact kind of attention and action I_ don’t _want_.

“Well actually, on this occasion your attention was the last thing I wanted.” Loki said evenly, as if they weren’t talking about _this_. “I was actively trying to avoid your knowing of it. And I didn’t collapse as we re-entered the safe areas of the ship, I was merely dazed. I also wasn’t ‘lying limp’, I was _sleeping_ , after having a _lengthy conversation_ with Val. Of course, I appreciate that you were concerned-“

“ _Concerned?_ ” Loki almost flinched at the sharpness. “Loki you are going to drive me to some sort of sickness – can you not use your head to see that such an action would obviously worry and upset me? I’ve already seen you die twice, my Realm has been destroyed, and my only family is out there actively trying to get himself killed!” Suddenly Thor’s approach made much more sense. Loki needed to deescalate this quickly, before Thor actively began freaking out on him. (He really didn’t like what electricity did to his hair. Or his general safety.)

“Ah, Thor, you’ve misunderstood.” He said mildly, trying to infuse calm he didn’t really feel into his voice. “Trying to kill myself was the opposite of what I was trying to achieve here.”

“Then explain your actions clearly and without embellishments designed to throw me off.” Why did Thor have to make things so difficult. ‘No embellishments’. ‘Explain clearly.’ What a bother, that _always_ made _Loki_ seem like the irrational one.

At the same time, he could do that. And he probably needed to, if he were to convince Thor that he really didn’t mean to off himself. Which was a familiar urge, but annoyingly not one relevant to the current situation. He wished Thor would just let it go. But then he might be stupid enough to actually kill himself. It was at these sort of times when Loki really hated the way his brain ticked.

“Well first of all I used rope to make sure that we couldn’t be completely pulled out into space-“

“The use of rope being questionable already.”

Loki exhaled. “Okay, maybe it wasn’t the safest but _surely_ it proves I _did_ think about safety.”

“We should probably discuss what you consider ‘safe’, brother,”

Loki scowled at his brother. “And had I waited and told you, you wouldn’t have allowed me to do it.”

“I assume that this was what made you take the _incredibly stupid_ choice-”

“Yes it was! Those lower level corridors are the only non-airshaft or sewer ways to access the lower engine rooms, _and_ the cooling systems, as well as the oxygen supply and the water filters, and more storage rooms, and a lot of living space. It was important-”

“You still should have told me.” Thor stated, as if this was an easy thing to casually bring up!

Loki narrowed his eyes. “You’d have taken it as a suicide attempt.”

“No, I’d have arranged for proper equipment-“

“ _Proper equipment_ would not have done anything! Thor, can you not see that the problem here was that a _massive spike_ had pierced through multiple levels of ship – I am the only being on board _capable_ of fixing such an amount of damage. And you cannot deny how useful-”

“I am not denying the _usefulness_ of your actions Loki, I am questioning why you never tell anyone but those you’re working with-“

“Oh, I didn’t tell her what I was going to do either-“

“LOKI.”

“What.”

“What do you mean, _what_? You’re crazy-“ Thor cut off, looking like he very much regretted speaking. Loki drew back with a swift inhale, pressing himself back against the wall. “I didn’t mean that.” Thor said.

“No, you absolutely did.”

“Not in the way you think I did.”

“And how would you know anything about what I think?” Loki straightened up, hackles rising. “About _how_ I think?” Thor said nothing. “That’s right – you don’t. _You_ don’t have to live here, _you_ don’t have to deal with-“ He clamped his mouth shut, warring fiercely with the urge to just spill it all out and let Thor deal with the pieces.

“Where’s ‘here’, Loki?” His brother asked softly. “What do you deal with that you’ve kept secret from us?”

“Nothing.” Said Loki, too swiftly. He slumped, suddenly unwilling to goad his brother into a fight. “Nothing, at all.”

Thor sighed. “How long do you think it’ll take for her to sleep it off?” He gestured at Val, still fast asleep.

“I have no idea seeing as I don’t know how much she’s had.”

Thor took a step forward. “Then I suppose someone’d better stay here to make sure she doesn’t die when she comes-to.” Loki eyed him, wondering if Thor was about to charge him with the task of looking after their _dear_ alcoholic Valkyrie. “So I hope you don’t mind if I sit down.”

Loki shook his head slowly, drawing his knees up to allow Thor to deposit himself onto half the bed, back against the wall. He looked tired, he realised. He wondered how long Thor had stood, watching them sleep.

“Are you sleeping enough?”

Thor looked towards him; startled. “Why do you ask?”

“I’m not the only one whose body requires rest. How’re you holding up?” It felt both so right and wrong, talking like this. As if they were truly in this together, which they were, on second consideration.

Thor looked positively delighted. By _what_ , Loki couldn’t say. “You’re trying to look after me?”

Loki huffed. “You idiot, when have I ever stopped looking after you? And don’t mention New York.”

“Um, you got me banished?”

“It was never meant to go so far, we were never going to get to Jotunheim.” A strange numbness had started to overtake his limbs. Thor looked at him. Loki still couldn’t get used to the eyepatch.

“Yet fate would have it happen anyway.” Thor sent him a tired smile. Loki sent him a tight smile back. He didn’t want to think of what they had had. He’d found a way to destroy everything he’d ever loved – please let him not destroy this too.

Loki looked to Val. He looked at Thor. His brother hadn’t told him to stay, but he didn’t seem to want Loki to leave. And Loki needed another hug. He considered briefly the socioeconomic consequences of hugging Thor and decided that it was a safe enough course of action. He extracted himself from the covers and paused, unsure of what to do next. It had been over six years. And he wasn’t _crying_ , so the rules might be different-

_Loki, you imbecile, he is your brother; why are you doing this to yourself? It is your_ right _to bother him in any way you deem worthwhile._ At least a corner of his mind had sense. Loki grinned. Thor was going to be so surprised. Loki caught Thor’s eye. Thor apparently saw something in his expression that made him tense. Probably thought that Loki was going to stab him. The best pranks were always the unexpected ones. Loki stayed still, waiting for a cue.

Thor opened his mouth – probably to say ‘Loki’ – and Loki launched himself at him. Thor, always slower than Loki, barely had time to react – whether to shove him away in preparation for an attack or other – before Loki was on him, pressing him down (not that it would matter if Thor wanted to push him off) with all his weight and wrapping his arms tightly around his torso.

There was a moment of pause and then Thor was hugging him back and Loki let his brother draw him closer until he was as good as sitting on his lap, being rocked backwards and forwards. He knew it was mostly for Thor’s benefit, but allowed himself to sink into it. A warmth, nothing to do with his energy levels, spread through him and Loki thought he might just be content to call their conversation a day and fall asleep like this – safe and held.

“You weren’t expecting this, were you?” He asked Thor, voice barely above a murmur.

“No, but then again, you wouldn’t have done it if I was.” Thor answered, the traces of a laugh present. “That has always been true with you, my little liar brother.”

“Awww, that’s so nice of you.” Loki paused for a moment, shifting so that he was also leaning against the wall. “I’m sorry for doing stupid shit without telling you.” He said quietly.

“Ah, Loki. You’re one of a kind.” For some reason Loki didn’t quite think he was forgiven.

\--------------------------------------

Not much was said – to Loki’s relief – as they waited for Val to wake up. Thor didn’t ask how Loki had fixed the hole, and Loki didn’t offer any clues as to how he’d managed it either. Loki at some point asked Thor what time it was, and Thor replied that it was (would have been) nearly nightfall.

Loki offered to repeat the charm that had made the pain from the missing eye go away, which Thor accepted but said something stupid and ridiculous to like “I guess I’ll need to stop doing this at some point, get used to the pain,” to which Loki replied something along the lines of “It’ll heal you absolute idiot,” and that was that.

Loki wanted food, Thor told him to go get some. Loki went and got some, ignoring some strange looks he got as he took two trays instead of one and disappeared off into the mess of corridors once again. Upon his return he found Val stirring and Thor glaring. Fun.

Loki settled himself cross-legged on the bed, setting one tray beside him for Thor (or Val, but he strongly doubted someone in her position should be left to eat without a basin nearby) and the other on his lap for himself.

“Hi.” He told Val, who had opened her eyes and was squinting at him.

"Shit. Lackey, what time is it?” She started off sounding hazy and vague, but miraculously recovered by the end of her sentence. This was what a thousand years of drinking did to you.

Loki scowled. “Near nightfall. And it’s-“

“Loki, Loki, yes I recall.” Val didn’t seem too inclined to move. “Am I hallucinating or is His Majesty sitting next to you?”

“Your eyes are fine.” Thor said. “What isn’t is this,” He gestured at the mess on the floor.

Val didn’t look down. “I’m sure someone can clean it up.” She closed her eyes. “I have a killer headache, can anyone do something about that or-?”

Loki slid the tray off his lap. “I can-“

“No.” Thor said. Overruled, Loki sat back, looking quizzically at his brother. “I think a hangover is well in order.”

“I disagree.” Loki said, knowing exactly what the aftermaths of Sakaarean alcohol looked like. “I would prefer to show Val to her room.”

Val cracked her eyes open again, looking sceptical. “My room? I have the bar; I don’t need one.”

“Yes you do,” Loki said before Thor could butt in. “And I arranged for it to be one close to mine. For coordination.” The truth was that Loki absolutely hadn’t arranged for anything but as the single rooms were few and were going to go to individuals who needed to be close to the Crown he gave himself the privilege to decide that for some reason he didn’t want to be too far from this alcoholic.

“You have a room?” Thor turned to him, looking exactly unsurprised. “You didn’t tell me.”

“You don’t need to know where it is.” Loki told him. “You’ll find out when I want you to.”

“It’s close to mine, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” It didn’t occur to Loki to close his damn mouth until after the fact. “Don’t disturb me.” He was becoming too close to people again. This would only result in pain if he didn’t bring the walls back up. He had to do it in a way in which Thor wouldn’t notice – if there was enough resolve left in him to do it in the first place. Weak. Weak, weak, weak. Thanos would be disappointed. ( _You don’t need to measure yourself to his standards_.) No, he was disappointed in _himself_. Yes, that was it. Surely that was it. Too weak.

“Why would I disturb you?” Thor said at the same moment as Val said “I hope you know I won’t listen to that.”

“Whatever. This day has been a total waste of time.” Loki declared, sliding off the bed and crossing the small space from its edge to Val’s chair.

“Depends on what you define as a ‘waste of time’.” Thor countered. “I thought we agreed that your actions had been useful.”

Loki sighed. “I know, I know. It’s just that I had a list of things to do and I never got the list of roomings to you-“

“Heimdall and that woman Kaysa took care of it. They got to everyone and I received the unkingly task of helping move personal belongings.”

“The ladies must have swooned.” Loki intoned, voice a drone. He could just picture it.

“They were rather busy with other things.”

Loki elected not to respond, instead moving his hand to Val’s forehead. She threw him off and Loki sighed. “You know I have to actually touch you to make your headache go away, right?”

Val pursed her lips. “How am I meant to trust you won’t mess up my memories again?”

“He did _what_ to you?” Loki shivered as static suddenly filled the room. At least it wasn’t freezing – Loki would absolutely hate himself if he _froze_ at the mere sign of Thor’s indignation.

“That’s right, I went into the Valkyrie’s head and dragged up the Fall of the Valkyrior in order to stop her from killing me.” He said, sounding defensive and abrasive even to himself. “I’m not too proud of it.”

“Oh no, you definitely should be,” Val said, trying to get up whilst avoiding him. “It’s the only reason I helped.” Loki stood back and used his magic to lift the trays on the bed up. Val went maybe two steps before she tripped and fell headfirst onto the mattress. Loki stifled a snort as Thor carefully edged out of the way to avoid her. “Okay, maybe I miscalculated.” She said, voice muffled. “Come here,-“

“If you call me Lackey I’m going to stab you.” Loki had folded himself against the wall, waiting.

“Mischief. I was _going_ to say Mischief. But if you’re going to get all violent…”

“Nevermind. It’s… better.” He conceded. Why did Thor _have_ to be here? He could handle the Valkyrie on his own, and he’d be making so much better headway without him here witnessing everything they did. He wanted to for _once_ do something without Thor watching over him – monitoring his every action. That wasn’t why Thor was here, but feelings said something the logical mind could not. Why couldn’t Loki handle being with two people at the same time? Why was he so impossibly _jealous_? Was he so attention starved even after _Sakaar_? Was it just a different sort of attention he needed? Was he just, somehow, fundamentally, _wrong_?

Thor was looking both intrigued by the conversation and sadly left out. Loki promised himself he’d make it up to Thor later. Right now a part of him felt immense satisfaction that Thor was experiencing what Loki had experienced their entire childhoods. ( _You twisted bastard, the reason he’s alone is because all his friends are dead because of_ you.)

“I suppose you two have to talk things over?”

“Yes.” To his surprise, Val beat him to it.

“Are you should you should be moving, Val?” It irked Loki to no end that Thor was using the name that he’d only _now_ been told he could use. (Of course, Thor put less stock in names than Loki did, so that was to be expected, but as mentioned above logical thought had little say in matters of the heart.)

“If the magic one thinks I’ll be fine, I don’t see the problem. Not that I’m _looking_ at anything right now.”

Loki was unsure if that was his cue to move in. “So should I-“

“Get it over with.”

Permission granted, and with Thor looking over his shoulder – probably curious over what Loki healing headaches with magic looked like – Loki placed his left hand – it was closer connected to the heart so it worked better (or so he chose to think) – on what could be seen of Val’s forehead, manipulating the currents and soothing what Loki could only imagine was an intense violent pounding on the inside of her skull. There was a light green glow, easy to produce when energy didn’t have to be conserved.

Letting up on the flow of energy, Loki stepped away. “How does that feel?”

When Val looked up there was an expression of complete astonishment on her face. “I haven’t felt this clear in centuries.” She said, eyes wide. “Did you do something to remove the effects of alcohol-?”

“Nope.” Said Loki, grinning wide enough to show his teeth, immense satisfaction flooding in and replacing any feelings of jealousy he might have had. “Though I suspect that if you stopped drinking you’ll feel better than this-“

“Out of the question.” She cut him off and turned to Thor. “Your Majesty, we’ll talk later.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Sure. Whatever. I believe the Prince has to show me to my ‘esteemed quarters’ or something ridiculous now.”

Loki started to protest that this was nothing whatsoever to do with royal properness and got halfway through a sentence before Val interrupted him in saying “Later,” to Thor and stumbling gracefully – somehow – out of the room. He was left with no choice but to bid his brother goodbye and try not to feel too bad about leaving him alone. ( _He deserves this_.)

\-------------------------------------

Loki knew he was using this as an excuse to get Val away from Thor and get her attention for himself. He’d always been low when it came to being noticed outside of Asgard, but this, _this_ was something new. If he tried, he could probably stop it. He already knew he wasn’t particularly going to. He was too jealous, too flawed. That knowledge wasn’t going to stop him from doing what he wanted. Not anymore. Odin was dead, and so was Frigga, and Loki was finally free from their influence. Thor couldn’t stop him if he tried. He wanted, so he took.

He hadn’t been allowed to take any sort of lead, but was graciously permitted to give instructions towards the corridor and sets of rooms that were the best available on the ship. (He had a feeling the Grandmaster hadn’t been able to finish renovating fully, which was a welcome surprise. He didn’t think he could handle more of Sakaar than was already present on this ship.)

They stopped in front of a door several rooms down from Loki’s, and twice as far away from Thor’s. (Completely coincidentally, he was sure.) Loki opened the room and told Val that they’d ( _he’d_ , realistically) sort out key cards but that for the moment she might want to keep a knife or two out to throw at people who annoyed her.

They made their way into the room, stalking dark figures, Loki drawing out one chair and Val another, maintaining eye contact as they sat down on opposite sides, facing one another. Any personal feelings had been left at the door. This was business – of a sort.

“So, Mischief, you wanted me alone, huh?” He was glad Val knew. (It was nice of others to recognise that he was crooked and wrong and had motives for everything he did. Yes, nice was the word.)

“Yes, I did.” Loki smiled. There was something cruel and sharp in the expression. A show, nothing more. He was going to be the one in control, no matter the Valkyrie’s feelings. “I was wondering exactly what sort of rules applied if we decided to continue our… ah, _partnership_.”

“You want to make sure you don’t piss me off so you get to keep your head?” Rather blunt phrasing, but effective.

“And more selfish reasons.” Loki steepled his fingers.

“You want to make sure _I_ don’t give you incentive to do away with me in cold blood.” It wasn’t a question. Perfect. Loki liked dealing with those who had a brain for such things. And despite the alcohol, Val definitely did if she had managed to survive and stay in favour for a thousand years.

“Precisely.” Maybe if this vague threatening went on long enough he wouldn’t have to acknowledge that he, for some reason, liked her company.

Val straightened up and reached for a drink. “So this is how this is gonna go: I say my requirements, you say yours, we barter, we compromise, we fight, we agree, we drink. Got it?”

Loki felt his lips thin into a fine line. “Bold of you to assume you’re in control.”

“Bold of you to assume I’d allow you to attempt to control shit in my territory.” She smiled, an expression no less threatening than Loki’s own. The drink was forgotten. _Good. So there’s hope yet_.

He narrowed his eyes, pupils going to slits. “I hate to remind you, but _I’m_ the one with the power.”

Val sat straighter, not shying from meeting those altered eyes. “And _I’m_ the one you’ve apparently ‘chosen’ to be your partner in crime. You cannot do anything without my cooperation.”

“I do not usually choose _equals_ when I’m making such connections.”

“But this time is different.”

“Yes.” Expressionless, inflectionless.

“Is it because I’m a Valkyrie – or something more?”

“It is partially – I know the Valkyries have specific skill sets. I want to find out what those are.”

“In time you might.” He was allowed.

“And because you’re important.”

Val cocked an eyebrow. “What, to you?”

“Don’t be ridiculous I barely know anything about you.” Loki shot back. A mirror of what she had said to him. Oh, there was something poetic in all of this. “No, you’re important to the people, you’re important to Thor, and you have a part to play in this story.”

“Not one for clear meanings, huh?” After a moment Val shrugged, as if to herself. “Well, I already knew that.” She leaned forward. “ _What_ story?”

Loki gestured all around them. “This one. I can feel things no one I’ve ever met can. They – the mortals – sometimes called me the God of Stories. I have no way of knowing how accurate this description is, but the point remains: you’ve been introduced for a reason. And I intend to make sure that _reason_ fits _my_ purposes.”

“I will not do anything without being told this great ‘secret’.” He’d thought she might be stubborn on this aspect. Still… he couldn’t… actually voice the problem. Not that he’d let _her_ know what it was anyway. People were there to be used, not personal relations.

“I do not need you to do anything at the moment, this is merely precautions for the future, where you will be _expected_ to help.”

“’Expected’” Val scoffed. “On whose authority? I bet Thor has no idea we’re having this conversation.”

“He does not.” Confirmed Loki. “And I think we both know why.”

“His Majesty has no head for this.”

“He will not allow any risks to be taken which might possibly endanger us.” Loki agreed.

“Endanger _you_.” Val corrected. “I know what sort of person you are – you didn’t argue one bit when Thor sent you on a possible suicide mission to resurrect Surtur – you’re stupid, and impulsive, and would give your life to save another – even if you’ve been scorning that other for centuries. I suppose I used to be like that.”

“But will you do it?”

Irritation spiked through. “We’ve been talking empty words, snake, do _what_?”

“What is needed to protect Asgard.” He wasn’t going to give way.

Val exhaled explosively and slumped back, crossing her arms as she thought things through. Loki hadn’t lied – only omitted or neglected to include details. He needed her – a strong, competent fighter and a clever person – in order to be able to do what was needed for when the Titan came.

“You know what?” She eventually said, turning her face towards him.

“What?” Loki kept his expression neutral.

“You’re full of shit.” He waited. “But fine, I’ll help you.” She glared fiercely at him. “I want to find out what you’re going on about, and since I have a ‘part to play’ or something ridiculous like that…” She trailed off for a moment, thoughtful. Then: “I believe you when you say you’re not ordinary. _You_ couldn’t be ordinary in a thousand lifetimes, or a thousand universes.”

“Thank you.”

“It’s not so much a compliment as a curse upon your being.”

“I know that.” Loki said calmly. “But you didn’t finish what you were saying. Not truly, I mean.”

“I’ll help you. Aside from discussing boundaries, and hating each other in the interim if that ends up happening, I’ll listen to your plans and do what’s needed of me. Apart from that, I refuse to be your puppet.”

“You shall not be a puppet, I promise. I can’t have you turning against me.” And he meant that… to an extent. If things got personal, she would be as bad as Thor – worse even, for having already lost everything once.

“You could simply hide that I was a puppet.” She pointed out.

“That’s true. But at the same time, I could choose not to make you one. It is your choice.”

“I already made it. Drink?” She held up a bottle. Loki summoned a set of elegant glasses.

“Of course.”

She poured him a glass full of faint green liquor. Loki accepted it and clinked glasses with the Valkyrie. She downed her glass in a single swallow. Loki took a sip. _Not bad_. He hoped he would never actually have to use _this_ agreement to get her to help him. But it was important to have a safety net to catch him if he fell. It would do them all good to have something waiting for the fall. (Because it’s coming and you’re afraid.)

That being over with, and having drunk to their… alliance? Partnership as Loki had earlier put it? Something else? (was it legal to form secret societies?), they were free to discuss relative trivialities. Relative. A lot of things were less important than the Universe.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some alcohol is consumed, some talking is done, and no stars are properly appreciated. It's also obvious that the Grandmaster had some input in the furniture.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for uploading this so late today, but it's a good 9k I needed to last minute edit, so hope it was worth the wait!
> 
> Since this is a bit long, you might want to read it in chunks, I don't know for you, but I feel like that'll help with making sure the chapter doesn't blur into a massive mess in retrospect.
> 
> Also check the updated! tags for a minor spoiler, or don't, either is fine.

The two of them were slumped in their seats, limbs spread out haphazardly and an empty bottle or two or five on the floor. Loki had let Val do most the work, as he intended to go spend the evening with Thor – not talking about anything important, _naturally_ ; Loki thought he might just shrivel up and die from even _considering_ speaking of Hela and Odin and lies and manipulations and uncovered histories and his heart felt like it too.

Val knocked back a drink and poured herself another, slowly bringing her gaze down from the ceiling to rest on him. “Listen, if I’m going to be spending time with you you must know that I have an allergy.”

Loki tried to sound slightly more sober than he was. “An allergy to what?” He asked, voice slurring before he caught himself, strongly suspecting that this was in no way medical.

“Hero worship. You do that, I’m out.” Val put her hands up in a take-it-or-leave-it gesture.

Loki laughed. “Thought so. Don’t worry,” He continued, straightening and looking as directly at her as his fuzzy head allowed, “I’m not one to worship my idols. I want to be on the same level as them, not be putting myself on my knees in front of them.”

“Right.” She nodded before finishing her glass yet again. “I hope you’ll keep to that.”

“I keep to my word.” He told her.

“If you want to.”

“Fair point, but I don’t feel like being pulverised again.” Loki remarked, remembering for some reason _fondly_ that sensation of being punched in the face.

“I notice you haven’t mentioned anything against being tied up.”

“Being tied up is hot, I have a thing.” He said it shamelessly – perhaps _too_ shamelessly for a ship full of civilians – and was right in his assessment; Val didn’t even blink.

“Leave that thing in your head.” Val suggested.

“I wasn’t about to suggest anything of the sort; I’ll be happy if I never had sex again.” Loki retorted loudly, taking a sip from his own glass.

She smirked. “I’ll ask you again in two weeks.”

“That’s unfair, by then I’ll be feeling better.” _Hopefully_ , his voice said.

Val lifted an eyebrow after yet another drink went down her gullet, never to see the light of day again. “And you care so much for _fairness_?”

Loki frowned. “In some ways, yes. Equal opportunity, care, respect.” He paused to consider. “Well at base level at least. Certain individuals deserve a lot more respect than others.”

“ _Levels_. That something you believe in?” She sounded curious.

“How can I not?” Loki said. “They exist.” And he was nowhere near strong enough.

“Like power levels or-?”

“Yeah, those.” Loki took a bottle full of a substance that strongly resembled some sort of liquid blue flames. “It’s simply impractical to have fights between them. False hope and all that. You’ll just get people killed. And there’re other ways to prove value.” He downed half the thing without bothering to pour it. It burned, and Loki grimaced, but the aftertaste wasn’t bad. He was going to finish this one. Val lifted an eyebrow.

“So you drink?”

“Pretty heavily.” There was no point in hiding it from Val. Why would it come out in any other conversation anyway?

“On your own or-“

Loki quickly cut her off. “Oh Heavens no; parties. No shame in being drunk and horny if so is everyone else around you.” Loki smirked at her, letting a dangerous light enter his eyes.

“I _thought_ you fit in too well for a straight-laced Asgardian Prince.”

At this Loki had to roar with laughter. “Darling, I’m the _opposite_ of straight-laced!”  
Val smirked, something playful in her face. “So how often did our young rebel go partying? Once a month? Twice?” Loki had the sudden feeling of being turned upside down at the reminder of how old Val really had to be.

Loki swatted that aside, pouring himself the blue flames instead of finishing the bottle outright. They didn’t burn, so it had to be some sort of illusion effect, maybe a chemical reaction he was too overloaded to think of. “Once or twice a _week_. They assumed I was in the _library_ – can you imagine? And for a good three hundred years too!” He grinned widely as he said it. Sometimes closed-minded Asgardians were so oblivious to what was so obvious – what, did they think Loki got so many rare trinkets as he had on full display in his rooms from the library too?

“Well with your mind – and complexion – you must have spent plenty of time there too.” Val reasoned.

“Well that goes without saying, doesn’t it Val? But if you think I spent my time reading histories…”

“Pfft, you? Now that you’ve told me about the drinking and partying – there’s something illegal hiding beneath your flippant words too, isn’t there? There has to be, you’re Royalty and the second son too – there’s no fucking way. Tell me, how’s the erotica?” She leaned forward, eyes gleaming with something that told Loki he was right in saving several of those books.

He grinned. “Surprisingly numerous. And varied… the amount of things my kid brain thought up after finding that section…”

“How young?” She moved further forward, if that was even possible based on how she was at the edge of her chair.

“Less than five hundred.”

Val whistled – a sound Loki wasn’t unaccustomed to hear directed at his person. “Started off _very_ young, huh?”

“In my defence finding the books was an accident. The rest admittedly wasn’t, but what can I say, I was a curious child.”

“Still are.” Loki turned to look at her quizzically. Val stared at him. “What? It’s obvious that you’re a sucker for knowledge. I wouldn’t be surprised if you raided the library before getting to Surtur’s resurrection. Not that your timing was bad.” Loki twitched, unwilling to think about the objects (object) he’d plundered from the vault.

“No, I didn’t, unfortunately everything still there was… destroyed.” So thankful he’d saved so many during his reign. ( _Far too little. Not enough. Should have done better. Should have tried harder_.)

“Well the histories you had there must have been fake anyway.” Hey, so she was trying to be nice. Still stung.

“I cry to think of all the wasted brainspace remembering fiction.” He said in the driest tone his drunken brain could tolerate without dissolving into a fit of giggles, or tears. Loki tried not to let his feelings of betrayal soak through to his face – it was just so easy to _be_ with Val.

“If you’re going to cry do it out of my room.” She told him bluntly. Loki shook the feelings off.

“Oh yes, that reminds me – do you like it? Is it _satisfactory_ for the last of an order?”

Val winced. “Don’t remind me of that.” Then she looked around, seemingly for the first time. “Seems good. A lot cleaner than my place in Sakaar.” Loki tried very hard not to gag as he remembered the filth. “Not that it’ll stay that way-“

“Oh yes it will.” Loki said with utter certainty. Val obviously wasn’t expecting that, as marvellously demonstrated by the way her dark eyes widened at being counteracted. “You’re keeping this place clean, and if you won’t do it on your own, I’ll be glad to help force you to. I’m not having filth upon my home.”

Val glared at him for a few seconds but seemed to decide it simply wasn’t worth it. “Fine. But I won’t do it on my own.”

“I’ll help you.” Loki decided. He was going to hate himself so much in a few days, he knew it. Then he remembered something. “Do you have clothes to wear? And your Dragonfang – where’ve you hidden that? We need to move anything you’ve got here. And bank accounts – I know you have a bunch of credits-“

“For _personal_ use.”

“Yes of course, those are yours.” _Just like mine are mine. I just need to actually_ access _the rest of my accounts – if only I can get to a familiar friendly station._ “Just, you know, money is money.”

“I’ve hidden my card. On my person. Don’t worry about it, Mischief.” Val reached over and took a bottle crate out from under her bed. “As for clothes, I’ve only this pair and the uniform – which I’ve stashed away in the bar-“

“Evening saloon.” Loki corrected.

Val shot him a look. “You’re pedantic.” She shook herself. “I’ll get them tomorrow morning; for now I’ve got my daggers. You have yours?”

“The Sakaarean ones? Yes. And many others – I’ve quite a collection,” Loki paused, reminiscing about them for a moment. “Once we get settled I’ll show them you- sorry, show you them when I get started on the Great Yearly Polishing. I don’t think of them as sentient beings, I swear.” Still, the daggers were going to enjoy seeing a creature of legend. Loki probably owed them that, for all that he failed to be. Maybe his own weapons wouldn’t stab him in the back for another year.

“Sounds like a colossal event.” Val remarked, half drily, half intrigued.

“It is.” Loki promised. “They’re worth a lot too, all of them.”

“I’d expect nothing less from _you_ , Your Highness.”

Loki smiled, comfortable in his seat, and comfortable in his skin for the first time since before the Fall. “Hey Val, want to go shopping?” The thought was random, and he didn’t have a chance to moderate it before his tongue spilled it into the air, but the more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea of it. (You could learn a lot about a person based off what they liked.)

She frowned, more confusion than distaste for the activity proposed, Loki judged. “Where? None of us exactly has – have? – a lot of clothes right now. Especially for sale.”

“I meant when we all go to a station – we’ll need to research the nearest and least expensive ones – I can accompany you in finding something to your taste. Money isn’t a constricting factor for you so it’s a matter of knowing where to go. I know you’ve been on Sakaar, not Asgard, but stations are something else altogether. And _I_ know how to get around them.” _Even if using my reputation will be not necessarily helpful anymore. I’ll need to hide my identity, or at least cast spells to prevent myself from being recognised. Too risky otherwise. Thankfully I usually resisted using my own name, beautiful and striking as it is._ Loki could admit without much shame that his name was probably one of his most redeeming qualities. “We can get new digs for us both.”

Val perked up upon hearing this new information. “So we’ve got a space rat on our hands as well as a party goer?”

Loki shrugged, slightly uncomfortable with the title. “You can call it that.” He fixed her with his clear green stare – he was good at acting unaffected by alcohol; it was a skill he’d practiced. “I like to think I’m more than just a _rat_.”

Some realisation seemed to spark in her eyes. Loki suddenly got hit in the gut and chest by the cold tidal wave of knowledge that he’d said too much. _Too proud, you acted too proud. Absolute idiot you are._ “Of course. You’d never settle for that.” Val said, a whisper. Then, louder but no less conspiratorially: “I won’t tell Thor you’re mixed in with things. But I want to know more.”

Swallowing down the nervousness, Loki gave a single nod, and then fell back into the mood of something casual. “Later, later. It’s a long, complicated story.” He bit the inside of his cheek. “And the shopping?”

“Oh, sure. Whatever. I don’t care.” She certainly sounded it. Loki suspected she would drag him to a bar or a casino at the first possibility. Not that he was against that. “Just don’t make me pay attention until you actually think I might like it – shopping really _isn’t_ my favourite thing to do.”

“Would you prefer to be doing people?” Loki purred, eyes half-closed. For some reason, now that he noticed it… Val wasn’t unattractive. In fact, she was distinctly pretty. But that was probably-

“The alcohol talking?” Val lifted her eyebrows at him, incredulous.

Loki shook himself. “Yes. Most probably. Definitely. Sorry, I told you how I get with the right company…”

Val waved him off. “It’s okay, I spent your entire lifetime on Sakaar; I’m used to it. Attractive, horny drunk people.”

_That_ got Loki’s attention. He sat up straight. “You think I’m attractive?” He tried not to look or sound like a peacock displaying his feathers but once again, alcohol wasn’t the best for these sort of things.

Val looked him up and down, and Loki felt himself flush under the scrutiny. He liked the way she looked at him, really, he _did_. So different from the vicious predatory eyes on Sakaar, yet hungry all the same. Alcohol. It was the alcohol. “I see nothing wrong with this,” She said, prodding him. “In fact, there’s something distinctly hot about the leather and you and your face.” A pause. “Gast liked you for your face – apart from the ass I mean. The eyes, I think, in particular. Very pretty, I see what he meant.”

Loki shuddered, suddenly deflating. “He told you that?” His voice was small.

Val frowned. “Should he not have? I get that he’s traumatising – you’ve proved as much already – but he isn’t wrong when he appraises people. You do have amazing eyes.”

His skin was suddenly hot. It felt almost like a fever that descended upon him brought on just by words. He shivered, lightly. “Thank you.”

Val leaned in, hands pressing his arms down as she scrutinised his face. Loki tried to ignore how his heart pounded. _Alcohol, it’s the alcohol_. “How did they get so green I wonder? I’ve never seen the colouring on an Asgardian, not with the same effect it has on you.” She paused. “Like gemstones.” Loki suddenly realised what she meant. He recoiled inwardly, breath hitching. No other Asgardian has eyes like him because he was a fake. A monster. He should have thought of this earlier, when she had been talking about how he’d looked the first time. It wasn’t natural, because he wasn’t. How didn’t she know?

“Gast never mentioned why though.” Val remarked, apparently losing interest and pushing back, falling into her chair heavily and making the whole thing drag backwards on the floor.

Loki exhaled, looking at the time. They’d been here well over an hour. He half-raised himself from his seat. “I should probably go,” He said. She didn’t know. _She didn’t know_. It was both a relief and dangerous. She knew he was adopted – _everyone_ knew he was adopted – but apparently not the species. He wouldn’t tell her. Not now. Drunk reactions were dangerous. (Any reactions had the potential to be dangerous.)

Val yawned. “Okay then. I’ll try out the bed, see if it’s any better than a barstool or couch – you going to do the same?”

Loki hesitated. “Actually I think I’ll have a long soak first. Helps with the limbs after I do magic.” Which wasn’t strictly true, but it _was_ soothing after the aches of straining to keep the energy contained and controlled.

“Go on then.” Val waved him off.

Loki stood fully. “Okay then, bye. Farewell. May I hope to be in your esteemed company any time soon?”

“Later, Your Highness.”

Obviously dismissed, Loki exited the room, closing the door softly behind him. He felt… sort-of empty after his thoughts had turned down the dark corridors of his – urgh – _heritage_ again. But at first, it had been… enjoyable. If only he didn’t have to skirt topic after topic. He should spend time with Thor but… Yes, a long soak was in order.

\---------------------------------------

That night, after Thor announced at an impromptu assembly – the first of its kind and Loki probably _would_ have appreciated some sort of warning of its existence before he decided to take a soak – that the way to the rest of the ship had been cleared – courtesy of the Crown Prince – so it was official, huh – and the Valkyrie – and that mechanics and builders were now wanted to start repairing broken pathways and making the ship safe to be on, Loki found himself occupying the ‘Evening Saloon’ with his brother, staring at a bunch of semi-familiar liquids, thankfully none of them with _special effects_ as the Grandmaster called them roughly 23 percent of the time. (The usual was ‘little surprises’. Yes, Loki didn’t like the sound of that either.)

“Is it safe for you to drink that?” Thor asked, apparently completely serious as he blocked Loki from taking a sip of his deep turquoise drink. Loki raised his eyebrows, caught off guard for a moment before remembering the lie the rest of Asgard (and Thor, apparently) still believed.

“What? Did you truly think I had the endurance of a kitten?” He did his best to sound absolutely and genuinely offended. It had been a lie he had deemed necessary, just in case of a need arising: that he could by no means hold his alcohol and was off by the third cup of mead, as the rumours went. He hadn’t had anything to show for it apart from so much mockery, but as long as Thor kept his mouth shut and so did Val, and Heimdall though he didn’t know why _Heimdall_ would be discussing his endurance when it came to drinking, it could remain a secret yet. It was strategically better to be underestimated than overestimated in most cases.

“No.” Said Thor, too quickly, looking away and fixing his eye on a bowl of genetically engineered fruit instead.

“You’re still a terrible liar, brother.” Loki informed him. And then it was his turn to block Thor, who had reached for a magenta and electric blue fruit around the same size and shape as a fig. “It’s an aphrodisiac, drives you crazy.”

Thor drew back, face gone red. “Okay then.” Then he looked curiously at Loki the same instant the God of Mischief realised his mistake. “How did you know?”

“It was pictured – _along the rest of the fruits here_ – in a botany book I found buried in a dark corner of Asgard’s library. I’ve never tried them.” For a second Loki thought he’d overdone it with the last sentence, but Thor just nodded and accepted the not-facts as they were presented to him.

“Weird things to find in a library.” He remarked, draining his shot of a gentle rose-pink liquor, which turned out to be nowhere near as entrancing as the colour, judging by Thor’s reaction as it went down. Loki stifled a snort and vowed to try a sip of that next.

“ _Darling, you have no idea what can be found in a library_ ,” He said, shifting his pitch so that he mirrored their sister’s words perfectly. Thor shuddered.

“It’s uncanny how well you can mimic people.” Loki chose to take that as a compliment rather than a complaint.

“Still mourning Mjølnir?” He asked instead.

“Yes, aren’t you?”

“No.” Thor stared at him with betrayal in his eye. Loki met it, incredulous. “Can you really blame me? That thing did me more harm than good.”

Thor sighed and looked away. “It might have done, but now I am weaponless and you of all people should understand the position that puts us in.”

Loki drained his drink, enjoying the cool thrill it sent rushing down his throat and into his body before speaking again, letting his features grow sombre. “I do; I’m happy it’s gone on a personal level. That was an evil weapon, Thor.” He turned to face his brother. “You may have loved it, but on Mjølnir’s head lies the blood of the Nine Realms, and in a weapon the image of its first owner is always reflected, no matter how many times a polishing-cloth is run over it. Hela may have willingly given it up in exchange for her obsidian blades – or whatever weapon she used in battle – but you can never take those sins away. If you should believe my expertise in anything, believe this: That hammer would have been the doom of us all had it not been destroyed.”

“Always one for dramatics, aren’t you Loki?” Thor half-laughed, looking like he very much wanted to dismiss Loki’s train of thought.

“You would do well to listen to the words beneath the ‘dramatics’, brother.” Loki said darkly, and poured himself some of that rose-coloured drink.

He didn’t understand what Thor’s problem had been. It was delicious. And it was funny, seeing his brother’s face as he poured himself another. Loki raised his glass.

“Cheers.”

\-----------------------------------------

Loki’s second drinking spree that night ended with him half-dragging Thor upstairs into his chamber, and depositing him more than half asleep on top of his bed. He was nowhere near as wasted, not due to incredible resistance to the many charms of alcohol but because he’d politely waited for conversation to pause before draining his glass. Ever with less-than-appropriate for royalty manners, Thor had done his best to both communicate what had been done that day privately to Loki – the people really didn’t need to hear _everything_ – such as the fact that the Hulk was sulking in the bowels of the ship and was refusing to listen to Thor for whatever reason – and had never stopped drinking what was really high alcohol percentage liquor for the full hour and a half before crashing completely expectedly onto the floor looking somewhat dead.

Leaving him (and some pills that were good for hangovers), and feeling for some reason strangely a jerk about it – would Thor do something more for him? – Loki decided that going to sleep at a reasonable hour was for losers (he was quite possibly _rather_ drunk himself but he wasn’t going to think on the negatives) and crept around the Main Hall before breaking into the bridge.

It wasn’t empty. Toralf had, after apparently also finding alcohol – big surprise – passed out in a seat. Loki wondered whether he’d claimed a room after Loki’s promise, or whether he had decided the Bridge was as good a room as any. Which wasn’t a line of reasoning Loki could get behind, but to each their own, maybe. (He was also unnervingly attractive even now, sprawled and snoring as he was, which Loki put to alcohol, _al-co-hol_.)

He seated himself at a side desk (a _specific_ side desk, he wasn’t an idiot about to try procuring access cards from the star navigation desk), and tapped the screens on. He’d promised Val a key card, so now he had to go get some. It wasn’t too hard to figure out that each individual card had to be coded to every door or section it could open – which was handy for restricting access – Loki briefly imagined trapping Thor in his room and laughed at the idea before a part of him clicked that maybe that wasn’t the best course of action.

Doing this intoxicated was probably a mistake. Loki decided he could afford it. First up was himself. Who in the No-Longer-Nine Realms gave a damn that Thor was King?

Loki promptly gave himself access to everything. Except the tunnels. Those were missing here too. (Would he still be able to easily open the panel when systems were up and running?)

Next up, he allowed Thor to access everything except his room (Loki’s room, that was, as amusing as blocking Thor from entering his own would be). Heimdall… well he _saw_ everything, would restricting access to him even make sense? He got all, accompanied by a drunken giggle that happened to slip out. Toralf – special access to the bridge, apart from that just ‘regular’ access, whatever that was – Loki’d have to check it but it hardly seemed important right now. Kaysa – bridge, just in case they needed someone to discipline Toralf and Loki was busy, storage spaces, ‘intermediate’ access. Once again, Loki was going to have to check.

Now came the hard choice – what to give to Val. Val, whom he didn’t know, Val who knew more about him than his brother, Val, who had the potential to be a great friend or a great enemy. It was early to tell, drinking considered, and access was after all a sign of trust. The codes and systems hadn’t been activated yet, but once they were, it would be painfully obvious who was trusted by the Crown and who wasn’t. And he needed Thor’s clearance – anything he’d done now had to be passed through him. Which was annoying. This depended on Thor as much as him. But she was pretty attractive. ( _Stop it, stop it, stop it_.) Access to everything except private rooms seemed to be in order to Loki. (What about _his_ room? Would that be okay?)(Shut up.)

He pocketed (magic pocket, carrying things on one’s person was dangerous) the card and his own, and decided he wanted to go stargazing. It had been so long since he’d been free to do so. Loki missed his stars. Downstairs was full, here was Toralf disturbing his solitude, naturally the airlocks were the place to go.

Loki walked – with rather an unsteady gait – to the upper levels of the ship, electing to scale shafts instead of using elevators or stairs, until he was at one of the upstairs airlocks, and he was _about_ to open the outer wall leading to the universe and enjoy his view when a strong hand grabbed his shoulder and Loki found himself being dragged back from the double-doored chamber, protesting wildly as his prize grew further and further away from him and if only he could _blast_ whoever was responsible for this outrage off him-

Heimdall? What was Heimdall doing here? Loki blinked and stopped fighting. Heimdall was supposed to be asleep, not stopping Loki from seeing the stars- wait, something was off here. He thought. Something definitely felt off. He just couldn’t figure out what.

“Heimdall?” He sounded so… unsure. Was something wrong with him? “I was only going to see the stars…”

“Loki, I doubt even you could survive in the vacuum of space.”

Vacuum? Space? “But…”

_I already have._

_Have you? Or was that something else?_

“We’ll talk in the morning Loki.” Why did he have to be so firm? Why did he have to stop Loki from seeing the stars tonight? He was friends with the stars, they would _welcome_ him…

The rest of that walk was a blur and Loki barely remembered any of it. Only clear golden eyes, full of knowledge looking down on him as he was guided to a bed he dimly recognised as his own. He let his eyelids slide shut.

\------------------------------------------

Waking up was a chore once again and Loki was seriously considering severing his mind from his body so his illusion and mind could go about his day whilst simultaneously enjoying a week-long nap.

Yesterday was a blur, or at least the latter half of it, and Loki was confused on why he was sleeping fully clothed in daywear.

His body, like most bodies, did not agree with the consequences of drinking alcohol. So it was perfectly acceptable that the way he started his third morning, fourth day on the ship (Loki had decided to count Ragnarök as Day 1, a controversial choice he was sure.), was by stumbling to the toilet and emptying the meagre contents of his stomach into said porcelain goddess. (Someone on Midgard had called it that and Loki was in no state to disagree.)

After what seemed overly prolonged suffering on his end, Loki lifted his blurry head, regretting many things, and stumbled into the shower that for some reason co-existed with the bathtub somewhat peacefully.

Having magic was very useful, Loki decided, for when you were hungover and didn’t want to have to take your clothes off yourself. It was also useful in that once your too-cold shower was over – seriously, what was the issue with the hot water, where did it go? – and you decided that you were going to go Heather Chandler’s way and drink bright blue hangover cures which may or may not be bleach.

It wasn’t bleach and now Loki felt decidedly better. Not that bleach was going to kill him; he’d had way worse than that – if having to hack up one’s own internal organs after being forced to drink acid which dissolved your insides wasn’t enough to qualify one as dead, there was no way a glass of bleach could hope to even pass auditions. Not that Loki particularly _liked_ having that as a valid reference point, but when life gives you information one learns said info for future retrieval. Words of wisdom.

Choosing what to wear was a headache. On one hand, he could stick with what he had been wearing until now. On the other hand, he had a wall full of closets to fill and organise, and an extendable vanity, and a makeup… he wasn’t sure what that was. And then there was the shelf racks obviously meant for display of… he wasn’t going to use those shelves.

Loki decided to occupy himself with the first closet on the left and move to the right when he was finished with it. It was passcode controlled – as if someone would try to steal his clothes. It occurred to Loki within a few seconds that a). nobody apart from him really had any clothes and b). people were probably getting desperate. An oversight on his part, but now Loki keyed in 2012 as the passcode and hoped it wasn’t too obvious – it wasn’t like Asgard kept particular track of Midgardian years anyway. That year was… certainly something.

As for the closet itself, it was… large. Giant was more like it. Loki could fit ten of the widest, most extravagant dresses he owned in there and still have space for more. In fact, a rather private orgy could be held in this closet – not that Loki was in need of one. In fact, Loki would prefer to be far away from one if it did occur on this ship, regardless of whether or not it took place in his closet. As it was Loki had to decide on a system; colour, fabric, purpose, convenience, were all contenders.

In the end, and after a hard battle between colour and fabric, it was decided that the order of priority would be this: Convenience, Colour, Fabric, and Purpose kept miscellaneous as long as the wardrobe looked nice when he was done. If this wasn’t a refugee situation, Colour would have taken priority as it always did. (So many shades!)

Half an hour later – or perhaps an hour, he hadn’t been paying attention to the time for perhaps the second time in his life outside of drugs and alcohol and sex – and Loki was done. With the first wardrobe that was; there were ten. Okay, five, but ten sounded better when you spoke it. He had considered in his planning setting aside one for slightly less than appropriate for children clothes, but had decided against it on the grounds that Thor might, for whatever reason, decide to enter and open his stuff – and this was where he had probably messed up with his passcode, for Thor, dumb as he was, was not actually nearly as dumb as Loki amused himself to think, would probably get it in a heartbeat.

He had just made his bed, non-magically because you took pleasure in little things when you could bend reality to your will, and was planning to leave the room, dressed in full black, for once, several shining black metal accents on his chest and on the shoulders where his cape attached. His _very_ fine cape, which had cost him several thousand units alone out of this ensemble – black leather trousers, very form fitting, very nice, (the Grandmaster would unfortunately approve), a stylised tabard – almost a surcoat but not quite long enough to meet the criteria, also leather because who was he if he didn’t wear leather on his day to day business, and a long sleeved, high collared shirt. Long past were the days where he could shamelessly wear anything with shorter sleeves. Not that he’d felt incredibly encouraged in Asgard. (Damn Thor and his impressive muscles.) (Was it good or bad or twisted that he wasn’t Loki’s type and that Loki knew this?) High boots were in order, as always.

His hair was loose, again, only one braid on the left leading back where it too joined the rest of his hair in draping over his shoulders. It was all perhaps a hair too long, or a hair too short. Loki would wait for it to grow and then decide. A single large dark gleaming gem framed in black metal decorated it.

Loki had stolen that one, and anyone who had been keeping track with the hottest intergalactic news channels and streams a hundred and seventy two years ago would have recognised it as the Askor Family Birthright, gone missing in the wind after a long night rainstorm ball, which Loki had been invited to. Not that that was covered – damning information was a glorious substitute for death threats in blackmail.

As was said, Loki was _planning_ to leave his room. What actually happened was that a knock arrested his hand on its way to the doorknob – the inner side on the door had one, which was rather handy – and Loki was faced by the prospect of having to entertain a visitor. He could guess which one, too. Thor never knocked; the oaf preferred to barge in, or fail to. Heimdall’s knocks were softer, calm, measured. This one was loud and insistent, and came from lower down. Loki grinned.

“Loki, I hope you know that I’d only come to you for help in direst need.” Was the first thing Val said to him when Loki opened his door. He stood back, opening it further.

“I cannot wait to hear what it is.”

Val shot him somewhat of a hostile look as he stood back to let her pass. She wasn’t wearing clothes – only a robe she’d neglected to tie properly. Loki raised an eyebrow at her. He hadn’t expected to see her so soon after… last night’s conversation and drinking. She huffed and sat down on his just-made bed. Loki tried not to make the wince too pronounced as she absolutely wrecked his hard work.

“I need to go shopping.” Aha, so this was about clothes. Apparently getting a room had had an effect. Empty wardrobes could be intimidating. (Especially if you were so tiny.)

Loki smirked at her and took up a perch upon his desk, one leg dangling down. “And what do you propose I do about that? I’m not, as you can probably tell, a vendor, nor can I teleport us to one.” _Actually, you can_.

“Do you have” These words seemed to pain her, “something I can wear?” Val looked sceptically at him, as if questioning her own choices. Loki wondered whether Thor had told her. “Not that I’m blind enough to think we’re the same size.” A pause. “Thor told me to come here for some reason.” Ah, so Thor hadn’t told her.

Loki smirk grew even wider. “What would you like?”

“What do you have that would possibly make me look like a living thinking being rather than a walking, talking, drinking collection of laundry?”

That only served to make his amusement greater. “What? You say you’re not one already?”

Val dug out a pillow and threw it at his head. “I’m serious!”

Loki laughed, long and loud, deliberately obnoxious and aggravating. “I know. That’s what makes this funny.” He wiped his eyes. “Do you really think I cannot resize clothing? There’s countless charms- okay, no, there’s twenty-three I know of but that’s near irrelevant – and even the right channel of energy can get it done without too much hustle if I didn’t know anything else. I asked you what you liked to wear for a reason.”

Val looked like she didn’t exactly know what to do with all this information. “Show me what you have and I’ll tell you what I’ll wear.”

Loki looked round the suddenly too-small room. “What, here? _All_ my clothes?”

“Yes, what’s the problem?”

“We won’t be able to breathe.” He said, rather breathless already as he imagined the ridiculous situation Val had unwittingly proposed.

Val frowned. “How many things do you own? Why would anybody need so many clothes?”

“The question is not ‘why would anybody need so many clothes’, but ‘why do _I_ need so many clothes’.” This brought out a long suffering sigh – despite the fact that they’d _known_ known each other for less than a week. Sakaar didn’t count.

“You’re a diva, and a drama queen, and also a-.” Slut. He appreciated that she had at least remembered not to say it out loud.

“Correct. So what do you want?” Loki spread his arm out in a grand sweep of the room.

“Something dark?” Val said, more question than answer.

“Be slightly more specific honey – forgive the endearment – most of everything I own is dark. Light colours aren’t really that good for sneaking around.”

“Something not green then.”

Loki let his face twist into an exaggerated look of dissapointment. “You don’t want to wear my colours?” At the completely fed up look he got in response he sighed. “Okay, fine, you don’t want green. Black, blue? I doubt you want to go for red or yellow-”

“ _You_ _have_ _red and yellow_?” Every single word was emphasised in a way that betrayed somewhat of an extreme shock. “I mean apart from the cape?”

“I have everything; all you need to do is ask. I’m very eager when it comes to playing dress-up. And I’m a _very good friend_.” That was true mostly when intoxicated, but it had its charms in the sober state too. That was, if play transitioned into something more, which in most cases, it did. Or if the other person was a figure from legend that looked like she wanted to impale him on the Dragonfang she had brought with her – Loki only wanted to know if she’d gone like that to get it.

“You can play with the other children, I just need some damn clothes.” _Other children_ , Loki’s brain noted darkly. But then again, Val had to be at least… at the very least two thousand years old and Loki strongly suspected it was a lot more. Maybe she was around three thousand, three thousand five hundred. But it was difficult to tell from her appearance – the Grandmaster probably had something to do with that. Loki himself felt different from how he had before Sakaar – and no, he was pretty sure it was not all of it the sex. For one, his scar from the Kursed blade had used to pain him occasionally, sometimes superficially, sometimes deep and throbbing and making him go white with agony. That seemed to have disappeared, but for how long was anybody’s guess. Either way, that was a problem for the future when he wasn’t with company. He’d always liked to lick his wounds alone; as much as the attention he got when he was injured pleased him, it was also a due reminder of how weak he was. Another reminder he didn’t _need_.

“Are you sure you want to wear _children’s_ clothes?” Loki asked drily.

“Shut up, Lackey.”

“Loki.” He stood up and crossed his arms over his chest. “And with that attitude-“

“I won’t get any bla bla bla, yes I was also a child on Asgard I’ve heard enough of that.”

“ _Obviously not enough_ ,” Loki muttered to himself, striding over to his newly finished wardrobe and flinging it open. “See anything you like?” He stood back and folded himself against the unused space in front of the next wardrobe up.

Val looked at the clothes with possibly the least interest Loki had seen anyone do anything with and prodded at something blue before saying “Do you at least have a blue cape in my favourite colour?” She sounded so bored Loki almost winced. This was a privilege, not a chore! Wearing clothes was _normal_ unless he’d missed something big whilst in prison and nobody had thought to notify him. (Loki was slightly insulted if that was the case.)

“Yes.” Loki waved a hand in front of him, and in full view of Val, who was now staring at him with something like astonishment, reached through the small space rift he’d just created straight into his space pocket. When he’d first discovered he had this ability to not only create and stash objects in interdimensional spaces but also create slashes through the very fabrics of the Universe in order to reach them with greater ease he’d been wary of the method, afraid that the gap could close, severing his arm, but that had long dissipated as his confidence in his own powers grew. It was more of a drain and an effort than it had been, and Loki had had to fight to actually get it to open in the first place, but worked well enough that Loki had no qualms whatsoever about drawing out a lighter than standard royal blue cape and passing it to her.

Val took it rather numbly, and watched as Loki closed the rift. “What?”

“You just created a hole in reality.” Her voice was laced with something between awe disbelief. “I wasn’t aware that was something Asgard taught her sorcerers to do.”

He’d forgotten this wasn’t standard for mages and sorcerers. Naturally, Val hadn’t been expecting it. “She doesn’t. I haven’t seen anybody else do it. I discovered how to do this on my own; it’s not that difficult if you know what you’re doing.” This last admittance apparently breathed some life back in Val, who suddenly scoffed and twisted away so she was no longer staring at him.

“So you’re a magical prodigy – what else is new?” Loki pressed his lips together. After a moment, Val sighed. “Okay fine, that’s impressive, what else do you want me to say?” Loki declined to reply on that note, only sighing:

“What else will the all-powerful and unfazable Valkyrie have from me?”

She scowled at him for a moment before replying, stubbornly off-topic. “You don’t have to get such an attitude with me just because I don’t go about singing praises to your skills.”

“You and everybody else.” Loki fumed darkly. “What else do you want, or are you planning to attach that to your half-open bathrobe?”

“Trousers. Or leggings. Have them be black.” As Loki was finding a pair of black leggings through the re-opened rift Val shifted her weight from foot to foot. It wasn’t a very comfortable atmosphere. _Quelle grande surprise_. He wondered if it was his presence alone, or if both of them were contributing.

Just as he found what he was looking for and was resizing it, Val twisted her lower lip and spoke. “You really _are_ the last spellcaster we have, aren’t you?”

Loki half-turned towards her as he muttered an incantation under his breath and raised an eyebrow. “Took a while to process the reality of the situation, huh?” He said as he handed over the clothing. At the look she shot him he sighed. “Yes, yes I am. If anything magical needs to happen, unfortunately you are stuck with me.”

Val furrowed her brows at this. “Unfortunately? Why would _you_ being the last be so overly unfortunate compared to someone else? Based on what _I’m_ seeing, you’re twice as powerful as someone your age should be, and thrice as skilled.” _Because I’m being hunted by a genocidal space overlord and at any given moment may die or be coerced into switching sides. Or be tortured further into the bottomless pit of insanity, that’s also a rather valid option._

“It’s just that I’m not always Asgard’s favourite person.” Strictly true. “And I don’t do things normally – you know that. It’s rather unorthodox, the whole thing. And I’m the only one who can pass the knowledge on; people might be concerned I’ll pass my own queer ways down instead of the traditional.”

“Your way seems to be working better.” Val observed.

“So it does,” Loki agreed, “But it’s not the _right_ way so _they_ didn’t like it.” It still brought a sour flavour to his mouth whenever he thought about it – all the sneering he’d had to endure from the sorcerers on top of the jeers from the warriors.

“They? Who’s ‘they’?”

“Can’t you guess?” Loki sighed. A light went off and they both said “The Elders,” equally downtroddenly and quietly seething, Loki was happy to discover.

“So you came to them with your spells-“

“Just the Theories, originally. They laughed and sent me away, and apparently told my father – well, Odin, but I still called him Father then – because two nights later I was told to stop wasting time on fruitless theories and also to leave the working Elders alone instead of distracting them with my nonsense. So when I managed to get it right – one of the things, this happened several times before I realised they were never going to be of any help to me, ever – I didn’t tell them.”

“Those old farts –“ Val spat “Though they must have been quite young during my time. They would’ve stolen all of your research if you’d told them.”

“Yes, they would’ve. But now I’m free to pass it on, if there’s anyone left with the talent. Apart from Kaysa’s daughter, but she might never regain her connection to Yggdrasil…” Loki mused.

“I have no idea who that is, but you _do_ know you could just make your own?” Val was looking pointedly at him and Loki was hoping she didn’t mean what he thought she did.

“What do you-“

“You’re a Prince in rank – there’s gotta be someone who’s gonna want to marry you eventually-“

“No.” Loki said, feelings of unease turning to discomfort and panic. “Absolutely not.”

Val frowned. “Why not? Isn’t magical power sometimes hereditary? I would have thought it would be a good idea for you-”

“No thanks. I appreciate the suggestion but really, it’s a horrible idea.” Val looked sceptical. “Ask the mortals – they’ll tell you I’m a cheater, absolutely a terrible notion really, putting someone through that-“

“Is there something I’m missing here? You _are_ fickle, sometimes, but you don’t run from responsibility, apparently, seeing as you’re still here. What’s the deal? Some sort of magical accident-”

“Close enough.” Loki said quickly. He meant, it _was_ due to magic he was concealed so well as an Asgardian.

Val cut off and looked at him strangely before finally dropping the conversation. Loki was grateful, but he knew it couldn’t last. Someone would tell her…

“So what am I going to wear up here?” She gestured to her torso. Loki delicately did not spend more time than was necessary looking.

“As you’ve probably guessed, I _do_ have clothing that can fit women, so I think a tunic could be comfortable?” He suggested. “Or some sort of shirt, but I doubt you’d like precisely what I have.”

That caught her attention, and Loki was glad for it. The further away from children and marriage this went, the better. “What sort of shirt would that be?” She asked, a sly look coming over her face. She knew _exactly_ what the answer would be. He avoided turning to her as he answered.

“Well less of a shirt and more of a collection of threads and scraps of fabric, really…” Loki’s cheeks hurt from the effort he was expending not to grin widely.

“Show me.” Val demanded, more enthusiastic about said shirts than ever, and it was clear in which way she wanted to see them.

“I can’t.” Loki said, this time not bothering to stop the smug smile.

Val huffed, not at all put out, based on the waves of energy still pulsing out of her. “And why would that be? I thought you _liked_ playing dress-up.”

“It requires a certain shift that I’m currently not really feeling-“ Loki drawled, watching for when it hit her.

“Shut up! Really?” Her eyes were shining the way they did when she found more alcohol. Loki would give up the stars to see it more often. (And directed at him.)

“As real as the woods on Vanaheim and the lava lakes of Muspelheim.” Unfortunately Asgard’s mountains were no longer in existence and so couldn’t be used.

“Is it at least hot?” Val was side-eyeing him.

“Hotter than the trash heaps on Sakaar on a summer day.” Loki promised. “I’ll call you.”

“What would Thor think of all this?” Val questioned. With a jolt he realised he had completely forgotten Thor was a part of his life in the presence of the Valkyrie. He was such a shit brother.

“Thor knows – actually most of Asgard knows but it isn’t discussed – and Thor _will_ be kept in the dark about said ‘shirts’.” Loki said, forcefully.

Val laughed. “As if I’d miss an opportunity to see you as a woman.” She looked him up and down again, and it felt no different from last night, except for the glaring difference that even if Val had consumed alcohol since then, Loki certainly hadn’t had any this morning. What was wrong with him?

Loki felt his cheeks warm and quickly cast a glamour to make sure it wasn’t visible. “As if _I’d_ ever be cruel enough to keep you from it.” He said, voice cool and sardonic as ever but a note of something even he couldn’t identify slipping in.

“ _Anyway_ , so would I be better off wearing something that’s not one of your shirts?” Val, seemingly satisfied, was back to the task at hand. The task which had been at hand for a while, and Loki was wondering how much time could truly be wasted talking to Val on a subject she admittedly didn’t care about. Did it mean something that she was spending more time listening to Loki than actually being practical? He knew Val liked getting things done.

“Yes.” Loki confirmed. “Black, blue, or dark grey?”

“Black, I don’t think the other two would work with the cape.”

Finding what was needed and finishing working a spell on that too, Loki passed it to Val. They spent considerably less time dilly-dallying for boots – Loki insisted upon new footwear and Val had nothing against free things despite being rich – a belt, and other clothes Loki insisted she have because having only two sets of casual clothes was ridiculous for anyone of rank. Loki offered to help with Val’s hair, to which she scoffed and said that as long as it wasn’t falling in her face she couldn’t be bothered. (He couldn’t help but feel that was a lie.)

“Sooo, Mischief.” Was what she said just when Loki thought they were done.

“Yes?”

“We’ve forgotten something.” Loki almost groaned. Yes, yes they had – and they really needed to get to a station within… at most a week, and why had nobody else – here he meant Thor because Heimdall always had what he needed – come to him for help? He needed to find his brother and shake some sense into him.

“So we have. Thankfully I have a money spending problem.” Loki found several pairs of undergarments and threw them at her head. “That should be enough, please don’t judge me – at least there’s no lace or laces.”

“Thank you. I appreciate the lack of laces and lace.”

Loki went over and closed his wardrobe. “So this went well; please keep everything – I have more than enough clothes anyway-“ Loki turned around and then just as quickly whirled away again. “What are you doing?” He asked tightly.

“Getting dressed. Obviously.”

“Why here?” Loki was feeling no less testy. Last night’s claims of never being up to it again were proving false already.

“It’s a room, ain’t it?” Well, she _had_ been in an army. And Sakaar.

_So have you. You should be used to this by now._

But he _was_. Why was this so different? Why did it have to be so different?

“Forget it. Tell me when you’re done; I have something to give you.”

“Sounds intriguing.” Val droned, sounding the opposite.

Meanwhile, Loki was summoning the card he didn’t remember encoding but knew he had. With a trickle of embarrassment he discovered he’d put it in his personal files. Drunk mistake, that was all. She didn’t have to know. (And after all, it _was_ the safest place.)

Seeing that Val was fully clothed and tying her hair back – and doing it so messily Loki was tempted to just march over and do it himself – he held out the technology to her and watched as she turned it over.

“Well _you’re_ prompt.” She looked up. “Did you do this whilst drunk?”

“Yes, why?”

“When I went to His Majesty to complain about the lack of clothes Heimdall was there talking to him. I heard your name somewhere in there but when they saw me they stopped.” Val shrugged. “Might’ve been nothing.” Loki hoped it was. Somehow he doubted it would turn out to be so.

“Hey look, you haven’t opened anything from here yet.” Val was crouching at a minibar Loki had been stubbornly ignoring, examining the contents. He watched as she picked a bottle and then straightened, before turning to him. “Do we have anywhere to be?”

“I suppose finding my brother and seeing if we’re going to be holding daily morning briefings _could_ be a good idea.”

“Great, let’s go.” Before Loki could make any sort of protest Val had picked up her Dragonfang, leaving the clothes Loki had given her on his bed, and was herding him out. With a sigh and a last look at his messy room, Loki allowed her to push him into the corridor. Norns, she was going to be coming here a _lot_ now that she knew he had spare alcohol. At least he was sort-of following Heimdall’s advice?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I so hope you enjoyed that, and please please _please_ tell me what you thought! I look forward to reading comments every time I post a new chapter, they really make my day!


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An overly extended breakfast scene, of which I favour the latter part of. This is 11K of writing you have been warned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not dead! And neither is this story!
> 
> Sooooo I haven't posted for three weeks but I have a very good reason and that is that the writing wasn't working and I had to at one point rewrite everything I'd written for the chapter up until that point because too much purple blob I'm sorry.
> 
> This chapter - this 11K chapter - is somehow only one scene. I'll really try not to do that again unless it's important because this sorta spiralled out of control but hey, at least it's over and we can all move on with our lives.
> 
> So without further ado, enjoy!

Loki found that he appreciated not having to descend into the hall for breakfast alone. Accompanied by Val (and Val’s bottle of alcohol, formerly his), he slotted himself neatly into the line and waited as patiently as was reasonable for his turn to receive sustenance.

They had been unable to locate Thor in his room, and Val had declared that ‘if it was going to be like _that_ , Your Majesty, they were going straight to breakfast’ whilst sheathing her sword – which was both slightly disappointing and a relief to his nerves – and so they had. For one, after yesterday, Loki greatly approved of getting food _before_ having any sort of meeting with Thor, seeing as they generally left him emotionally unstable and with a pressing urge to do something useful, which he was going to train himself out of as he usually found that doing things because he wanted to suited him better than doing it out of any sort of compulsion.

Surveying the room at large, Loki was glad to discover that it was less crowded and significantly less full of toddlers and young children which, whilst the perfect makers of mayhem and rather cute to look at when well-rested and fed, were absolute nightmare abominations when their home planet had been destroyed and everybody left alive was forced tightly together with little to no privacy on the floor of some strange ship their un-dead Prince had found on an orgy planet – not that they understood what that meant. (If Loki envied Midgardians for anything, it would be that their children only remained insensible little idiots for perhaps a decade at most before they understood sense. Asgardians had to deal with that shit for centuries on end.) He hoped everyone appreciated his efforts.

The people that were awake and simultaneously present didn’t ignore his arrival, nor that of the last Valkyrie. Loki could tell that his choice of outfit probably hadn’t been the best idea he’d ever had, and if he’d had any shame would have skipped the dark jewel that gleamed in the artificial lights – he’d held it up on enough ships to be able to picture it perfectly – but his… three days of being a mostly quiet civil servant were over and he was very much a Prince, of this Realm or otherwise.

“So, Mischief, what’re you thinking about?” Val was behind him, which he was sure she hated but those who borrowed his clothes went second, and Loki turned back to give her his full attention as being in line was still quite possibly the most boring experience one could comprehend in this reality. Loki had never watched paint dry. If he had, he acknowledged that it could have changed his perception of standing in line.

“The lack of hot water.” He lied. But now he was thinking about that, so it was only _technically_ a lie on the basis that it hadn’t been true when he’d said it.

“You noticed that too?” Val frowned. Of course, if there was a problem with the pipes or whatever energy source had been heating the water and Loki had been feeling its effects, it stood to reason that anybody who had chanced to use bathroom facilities after him would have felt the change.

“Was I not supposed to?” Loki felt his eyebrows draw together. “I’d have thought it was a ship-wide thing. I’m not a mechan-“

Val cut him off almost immediately, letting a rare-for-this-time-of-morning slur slip loose. “No, no, that makes sense; the ship _has_ a central system for hot water, excuse my alcoholism.”

Loki raised an eyebrow. “I’m not sure if your alcoholism should be excused or fixed.”

Val shifted her weight from one foot to the other. The movement brought Loki’s attention to how much taller he was than his companion. Why did people come in such ranges of heights? He would have thought it would be better if things were slightly more uniform; it would have made many things a lot easier. (His mind switched immediately to making out but that _had_ to be just Sakaar talking again.) “Oh really? I am.”

“Oh, I’m sure.” Loki agreed with a smile that was just sharp enough around the edges. “Except I’m convinced that if I asked you, the answer that comes out of your mouth will be very different from the one lurking in your head.”

“Stop making it sound so sinister Lackey, it’s only alcohol.” Val flicked a dismissive hand in his direction and looked away, surveying the hall. He crossed his arms, unsatisfied with leaving it at this. (He didn’t want to watch someone waste away. He didn’t want _this_ someone to waste away.)

“That’s like the Grandmaster saying ‘stop making it sound so sinister it’s only a bit of _fun_ , Kitten’.” Loki didn’t have it in him to mimic his voice the entire way through. As it was, the words themselves and the memory he had attached to it sent cold fingers dancing up and down his spine. Yes. _Fun_. It had been for precisely half the parties involved.

“Right. Pretend any of that sunk in.” Val bit the inside of her lip and resumed looked anywhere but him, searching for a new conversation topic, Loki thought. “Does that food look familiar to you?” She asked, pointing at what was available for consumption this merry morning.

“No,” Green tinted things that looked like bacon, purple blobs around the size of a melting orange that reminded him unsettlingly of Thanos, and some vegetable matter that looked barely edible. _Barely_. Glasses of some white liquid he strongly doubted had anything to do with milk were also available. Loki shared a sceptical glance with Val. “Well at least no one seems to be dying?” He offered.

She grinned and shoved him. “We’ll see in half an hour. Will you take purple blob or should I?”

“You can treat yourself. I’m going for the green.” If it killed him, at least it would fit with the general trend of his life so far – everything he did seemed to result in some sort of injury or emotional trauma, mostly to himself. Okay, that last part was a lie, Loki did a lot of damage to everything and everybody in his general vicinity.

“If it kills you you have no one but yourself to blame.” She told him. Great, so they were both thinking of death. Death was fun. (No it wasn’t.)

“I’m willing to hold myself liable.” They’d reached the trays, which as the food came further in focus, seemed more of a bad thing than good.

It was variety, and Loki appreciated variety, just not when variety came from questionable food from even more questionable origin. A glance towards Val as he passed her a tray found her suspiciously eyeing her now empty bottle as if it might have somehow hidden some of its alcohol from her. Loki was quick to reassure her that she’d drunk it all. Val seemed quietly put out by this information. He would have thought that she knew how bottles worked by now.

Back to the food, this was actually a positive sign, in the sense that somebody had obviously taken the time to bring more of it up here from whatever miserable storeroom it had been placed in possibly decades ago. Was it a sign that Asgard was coming to terms with the destruction of, well, _Asgard_? Probably not. Asgard if Loki knew it at all would probably still be bitching about that the next millennium over, Loki himself at the forefront, not necessarily out of massive attachment to the place (He missed it. He missed it so much he thought his heart would shatter if he thought of it too much. Never again would he ever breathe its air or walk through its shady forests, or scale the mountains that bordered the trees.), but because a part of him felt personally slighted about the whole deal with Hela. As was well within his rights as the _son_ of the man who had hidden an entire child and more importantly an entire _Goddess of Death_ from everyone. It was most likely that someone had been feeling cooped up and decided to explore this new frontier. Loki felt somewhat proud that they hadn’t fallen in a shaft and died.

Loki, using up his only winning smile for the day as he had no diplomatic functions planned on the girl who was helping with the distribution of food – same one as last time – and sincerely enjoying that she blushed – picked some of the vegetable matter – which appeared to have been sliced and fried – there was oil here? He hoped there was, and that that was what his food had been fried in – and three pieces of the greenish meat. A closer look proved the liquid that was definitely not milk to be light gray and Loki resignedly took a glass of that as well. It sloshed rather disconcertedly which only made him feel worse about this whole endeavour.

Val’s face was a grimace from beginning to end of picking up food and Loki deeply regretted having to look away in order to seat them – it was very clear Val was not going to be of any help in this department. He chose a table on the outskirts of the whole section of the hall designated for canteen space, unwilling to have to deal with people staring at him – with suspicion or otherwise – more than they did anyways on behalf of his status (and crimes) and, well, the _Valkyrie_ right next to him.

“Nice pick,” Val said as she sat herself down next to him, slamming down her tray hard enough that Loki was certain something would have spilt if it wasn’t for the tiny barriers he created around the various so called ‘edible’ items upon it.

This, at least, he could do with ease; his powers only began to stutter with workings that required energy over a certain threshold Loki was glad hadn’t been set even more ridiculously low than it already was. Damn them all, may they suffer in Hel when their time came. Loki longed to be the one to do it, but hard realism forced him to acknowledge it wouldn’t be due to _him_ when Thanos and his Black Order finally fell. If (when) Loki met them again, he was certain he’d leave the encounter only mad or dead or never – if they chose to extend whatever dark spellwork had been keeping them young to him, when all but one or two should have of yet been long dead. They hadn’t done it last time. With Thanos that was no guarantee.

“I too hate people looking at me when I eat in a weird spaceship after being gone for a thousand years.” With a jolt Loki was driven back to the present. Sighing, he picked at his green bacon, sure to be lesser in every way to the good normal-coloured foodstuff that had been readily available in Asgard. Damn Odin for not telling them, damn Odin for choosing to keep his entire past a secret in an effort to conceal his hypocrisy, _damn_ _him_.

“It’s not that –“ Loki for some reason decided to be honest – who knew that was an option? “I do not wish to be... looked at at the present moment. It will go away, these spells never last too long with me.”

“Fun.” Val poked at the purple glob with a finger, which he found absolutely disgusting. It wobbled like jelly in response, and Loki felt his stomach flip over. He looked away and had the misfortune of coming face to face with his glass of fluid instead. He was refusing to refer to it by any other name, because this was certainly not drinkable, never mind that he would nevertheless drink it. Why hadn’t he just summoned a water flask from his stores? “So what do you think this is?”

“As long as it stays away from me I could not care less.” That was a lie; Loki cared because it could be poisonous and be on its merry wobbly way to killing his frien- _acquaintance_. Still, nobody appeared to be dying, and a precautionary survey of the room with his magic revealed that nobody was about to. About three people here were pregnant however, which Loki realised belatedly should have been recorded but never fear, as soon as they got to opening a medical centre that _wasn’t_ just a few unsupplied persons and him all panicking in a room he would see to it that it was noted. If only Banner would hurry up and take control back.

( _You know he might not be able to – the beast has grown stronger, it wouldn’t want to give up control so easily. Perhaps Banner himself has given up fighting it. You know all too well how easy it is to slip down that slippery slope_.)

( _You’re only here because you managed it_.)

The green bacon was tastier than it had appeared. That did not in any way, shape or form mean it was favoured by his tastebuds. It had to be noted that the stray gladiators they had on board probably wouldn’t be complaining at the phenolic taste, and Loki decided to keep his mouth shut on the interesting subject of the peculiar taste – not a _good_ peculiar, just a ‘this meat has been dead for at least fifty years and hasn’t been properly conserved’ sort of peculiar – keeping in mind that what those poor souls had been living on until now was some sort of chemical sustenance which had had Thor nearly in tears the night before as the poor (very intoxicated) man recounted the experience of being forced to eat it.

Loki didn’t know how seriously to take that as he had seen Thor eat plenty of – in Loki’s opinion – revolting foods and barely batting an eyelid whilst Loki and Fandral tried not to die in the corner, gagging on the smell alone (family dinners with Loki at the table had been fun). At least half of the displays had been dramatics, but the point still stood that Thor regularly ate truly revolting things such as that fish that had once tried to eat _Loki_ before it had been caught and killed and eaten instead. That experience had left scars upon Loki’s mind. Loki had never looked at fish quite the same way again. Loki hoped the green bacon wasn’t fish. It certainly didn’t _taste_ of any fish he’d encountered.

Val hadn’t been faring better; if anything, she had been faring much worse for the fact that _she_ hadn’t even been able to break the outer surface of purple blob thing let alone consume any of it. Loki would have been more than happy to let her get on with it perfectly alone, but she’d espied him looking and now Loki found himself forced to cooperate on the nigh impossible mission of splitting open what might have been a part of Thanos’s extinct race if it wasn’t for the slight translucency and entirely un-fleshlike consistency. (Still, very interesting things could be done to flesh, even to humanoid beings, that made them nearly unrecognisable.)

Halfway through their combined fruitless struggle Val, still unwilling to do the wise thing and admit defeat, violently seized and drained her glass. Anxiously awaiting the results of this venture, Loki bore witness and appropriately winced as her expression twisted and she shoved the glass back onto the table so hard it cracked, then bent over and did the same with her face, only without the sound of glass fracturing. Thankfully. After a struggle between wills and body, stomach obviously voting to expel the substance immediately, she slowly lifted her head to glare at him before letting her face drop onto her arms. “Norns, that was _rank_.”

“My sympathies.” Loki said drily, part of him unsure of what emotion, if any, would be appropriate to radiate.

“Do you know a spell that will purge that filth from my system?” Val’s voice was lower and more strained than Loki was used to hearing from her. At the same time, he could count how many interactions they’d had on his fingers so he really wasn’t in a position to judge accurately what that meant.

“I can quite literally _purge_ out substances once I’ve identified them,” Loki told her, “But it feels like molten metal searing your intestines and would not be recommended unless you’re dying. As for extraction, that involves bringing the substance up the way it came and is rather disgusting, and so in consequence I would much rather avoid causing a scene.”

“So what all that meant is ‘no, you cannot’.” Val grumbled.

“Yes.” Loki confirmed. “Unfortunately for you.”

Val twisted her head just enough to be able to glare at him. “Was that pointed, Lackey?”

Sensing some danger in the way the conversation was going, Loki lifted his hands in surrender. “Not at all, just an observation. A _truly_ innocent observation.”

“Nothing about you is innocent.” Val grumbled, sounding mildly better. Loki assumed he was free to continue his breakfast. Apparently not. “What about purple blob first of many?”

Loki paused his fork and then set it down, somewhat annoyed at not being allowed to take a _single bite_ without being interrupted. “ _What_ about the purple blob?” He hissed, making his annoyance plain.

“I still need to eat it.”

“ _Need?_ I would say that is a choice you made yourself, and can fulfil it without my involvement at that.” Loki picked up his fork again.

“I need you to be able to fulfil my choice.” Val half-moaned, grabbling at his arm and forcing Loki to once again put his fork down.

“You’re such a child for someone who must be at least twice my age.” He told her. “I’ll help you, but just this once so I can get on with eating my own food – which, may I add, is actually _edible_ , unlike what _you’ve_ picked.”

Val ignored the comment about food, magically recovering from the drink – Loki wondered how bad it really had been – and sat up, brandishing her knife. “Great!”

Two blunt knives and forks later, the thing bust in two – _finally_ – and… spurted all over the tray, a mess that was neither liquid or solid but somewhere in between. Loki and Val shared a glance, dumbfounded, before the latter stole his spoon and discovered that it was thick and heavy, despite the continued translucency.

“What now?” Asked Loki. “It’s all over your other food.”

“I know that,” Val snapped, lifting the spoon, “Let’s at least see if it’s worth anything.” A splutter later Loki was convinced that their effort had been wasted. “Th- that’s _horrible_.”

“That’s what you get for choosing something purple.” Loki remarked, resuming his green bacon, which he was now convinced was the way to go.

“What’ve you got against purple, Lackey?” Val grumbled. “You’re acting like you knew this was exactly how this was going to go but I can bet you’ve never seen this before, space rat or not-“

“Nothing that concerns you.” Loki told her evenly in between mouthfuls. He wasn’t _Thor_ , to talk whilst he was eating. Lies, lies, lies. “And it’s-“

“We’ve already had this conversation.” Val told, interrupting him mid-sentence and also stealing some of his fried vegetables.

“Then have something stick from it!” Loki pulled his tray away from the Valkyrie, unwilling to share.

“Loki, you can’t be expecting me to eat _this_!” Val gestured wildly down at the purple-covered tray. Loki saved from answering by a new voice joining the conversation;

“That happened to you too?” They turned, almost as one, and Loki was glad he had been able to withhold from drawing a weapon when he saw who it was. “My cousin Opre said it was because I was an idiot…”

Loki smiled. “Hello, Eryka.” He was almost glad to see her. Somehow, he drew out another one of those radiant smiles, the ones which he knew made his sort-of friends want to fall to their knees in front of him. (His best friend had never been like that. Loki had quietly appreciated not having that effect on him all those years; eventually it had always gotten annoying.) It seemed to still be working, the way the girl tensed up momentarily.

Loki let out a small laugh, which brought that to a stop. “What brings you here, to my humble table and annoying- Valkyrie?” He had almost said friend. He couldn’t have that. Friends were people you’d die for, people you knew, people you were close to. He was none of those things with the Valkyrie. He couldn’t be. That wasn’t how things worked with him. The time for striking up quick friendships was over – hadn’t Loki learned his lesson? He _knew_ it was a lie, when you felt yourself begin to orbit around another being, when you began thinking, ‘this will last forever’. It never did.

“Not yours.” Val said quietly, eyes narrowed, before Eryka could find her tongue.

“I didn’t mean it that way, shut up,” Loki hissed back, sending her a _look_ before turning his attention back to the girl. That didn’t seem to exactly make her more confident. Eryka wavered, and Loki silently willed her not to balk and say ‘nothing’ before rushing off.

“I… uh, wanted to talk to you, Your Highness.” Apparently spontaneity suited her better than pre-planned decisions. ( _That could be dangerous_.) Still, despite the quiet volume she’d said what she wanted. That was better than some (most) in his presence; Loki knew (and used to his advantage endlessly) that there were few things more intimidating than him when he wished it. (He felt so pathetic he almost couldn’t understand why anybody would ever be afraid of him.)

Loki waved a hand at the opposite side of the table. “Then by all means, take a seat.”

“Ah – Are you sure?”

“Yes, aren’t you?” Loki gestured once more at the empty space. “I don’t bite.”

“Yes he does.” Val interjected. “He hasn’t bitten me but I bet he does.” Loki very discreetly sunk his nails – which he probably needed to either paint or cut any day now – into her forearm, and Val very warrior-like-ly didn’t react at all.

The girl chose to sit opposite him (not the _Valkyrie_. If it had been Loki he would have chosen the Valkyrie a guaranteed hundred percent of the time.) – and Loki didn’t ignore the small surge of triumph that sent rushing into his head – taking up a posture much like what you would do in front of your teacher in school – not that Loki had ever had anything but private tutors on Asgard. He’d voluntarily subjected himself to public lessons on Alfheim. Those had been good days.

“You needn’t look so stiff,” Loki told her, eating his second strip of bacon – based on the way Val was looking at it he could guess that he wouldn’t be seeing much of the third. “The first time we met you flung yourself at me so hard I nearly fell over.”

Apparently he shouldn’t have brought that up, as Eryka went bright red at cosmic speeds and commenced excusing herself. “My apologies, I miscalculated my own momentum-“

Loki waved a hand to cut her off. “It happens, at least _you_ haven’t slammed headfirst into a five foot thick stone wall hard enough to break it.” The silence that followed his words pleased him immensely. A small smirk was sufficient to express the emotion.

“Excuse me Mischief, you’ve done _what_?!” Val exclaimed, sounding as if she wasn’t sure she believed him.

“Broken through a five foot stone wall by slamming face first into it.” Loki repeated with an even more crooked smile. It really hadn’t been that bad; he’d had the fortune to not have the wall be on Asgard, so the incident had been covered up successfully.

“And your face still looks so good? What did it look like before?”

“My face is still very much the same, thank you very much.” Loki cast a glamour to hide the slight blush that might or might not have shown up on his face at the veiled compliment; he didn’t even know if Val was particularly conscious of making it. Sometimes he hated having such pale skin. (The problem would be solved if you dropped this false appearance. You know everything about you is a lie.) “And so is the wall, if you were worried.”

“I’m not worried about the _wall_ ,” Val rolled her eyes, “How did you survive unscathed if you ran into solid rock five foot thick and _broke through it_ headfirst?” _As if I’d go into all of that with you. You’ve barely proved yourself any sort of trustworthy._

“The Norns willed to preserve my handsome features.” Loki slid towards her so that he could purr it in her ear. Val stiffened, which was predictable for other beings but not a reaction he was expecting from _her_ , then pushed him back into a more upright position.

“Away with you and your semi-seductions.”

“As the Valkyrie wills,” Said Loki, not resisting an inch. Eryka didn’t seem to know what to do with any of this new and not exactly relevant information. “So you said you suffered as a consequence of the purple blob too?” He asked, changing the subject. She started, then found her tongue.

“Yes, Your Highness, with much the same effects. I’m at a loss at what sort of beings might have supplied the ship with such vile foodstuffs.” So she was going the formal route of interacting with royalty. It was almost a pity, but Loki wasn’t foreign to the urge to be all proper in public. In private was a whole other issue.

“You know,” Said Val, “If you managed to get it to split open by yourself, the Crown might have a use for you.” Immediately sensing where this was going, Loki was quick to interject.

“If all goes to plan, she _will_ be a help to the Crown, but not in your discipline if I can help it.” A moment later the other part of his brain caught up to what Val’d said. “You are willing to train more Valkyries?”

“Ah, so _this_ is the daughter.” Val remarked brightly before turning to glare at him, Loki noting that he didn’t seem to be in her limelight at the present moment. “You could have just said so, snake. And yes, I would like to think I am.” More Valkyries. More. Valkyries. Loki would have started beaming like a child if they were alone. Or if it was dark. (Or if Thor was here to look like the greater idiot out of the pair of them.) Now would be the worst and the best time for a power cut. None was forthcoming.

“Have you talked to Thor?” He said instead, knowing that she hadn’t.

Val made a small fidget-like movement before catching herself. “No, I haven’t. And if you tell him I’ll cut off your ears and then carve patterns into your tongue with a sharp unwashed blade.”

“Interesting threat but okay.” Loki couldn’t say he was surprised by the reaction. It made sense that Val would not want to be the last of an ancient order any longer than she already had been, but she was, according to Loki – and she certainly knew it too – in no condition to start anything of the sort right now. For one, drunkenness did not encourage discipline nor respect and any from her status would soon dissipate when her students were faced with an alcoholic with irregular impulses. There were also no places to train, a lack of weapons, and what-not else.

Thor would push it in his childish excitement – it had been him that had first introduced Loki to the concept of the Valkyries, fallen shortly after Loki’s own birth. Loki now thought he knew why. Adopting a Jotun would have been too much for someone such as Hela (someone he felt would have been pushed off the edge as he had, despite barely knowing her), if she had already felt threatened by the appearance of another possible legitimate heir – one that hadn’t been corrupted. Loki wished the same counted for him, but Odin, for all his ‘love’ had inadvertently raised him to be of use – unlike what he had done with Thor. Thor had been a golden trophy to be displayed in front of all the Nine Realms, Loki was the tool that would have done all the work once the burnished gold had ascended to the Throne. Always unseen, in the shadows. Loki was not going to play that part now.

It would have been why Odin had insisted upon crowning Thor before his death - that way he would have made sure that Loki slotted in neatly, or gotten rid of him if he didn’t, quietly, the way he always had. He’d thrown Loki into prison so quickly at the first opportunity it would be foolish and naïve of him to think anything else. Whether he’d simply seen it as a sign that Loki would end up like his disastrous firstborn, or had suspected the involvement of other parties – and Odin wasn’t dull by any account, not like how Thor had been designed to be (It hadn’t quite worked. Loki only needed to push him out of the slump. He would do that, because he was a _good brother_ , unlike the horrible parent Odin had been, no matter how many conflicted feelings Loki still had towards him) – and had decided that anybody who could resist such forces was too dangerous to be kept alive or at least free, for Loki had no doubts knowing what he knew now that he would have been executed if it wasn’t for the intervention on his behalf made by his mother.

_Whom you got killed, unworthy ungrateful wretch that you are. There’s a reason you’ll never be worthy of Valhalla_.

“If Valkyrie actually did it, what would happen?” Eryka hadn’t been deterred – somehow – by the way the conversation had turned.

“She’d get her head chopped off.” Loki said with a shrug. “It’s a free monarchy; if she chooses to mutilate a member of the Royal Family that’s on her.” His companions shared a sceptical glance at his claim and possible also his completely unconcerned tone.

“So what happens if _I_ don’t do something right in the ‘free monarchy’, Your Highness?” The girl showed no fright – Loki wondered whether she knew how much power a Crown Prince held, especially if the King was his brother. He decided that it was unlikely – she dressed like someone from the countryside. Not at all up with the newest styles in the Capital.

“Depends on what the crime is.” Loki replied, surrendering his tray to Val as she proceeded to wrestle his fork for the last piece of green bacon. He didn’t _really_ need to eat anyways.

What he _did_ need suddenly flashed right in front of him. Well, Loki hadn’t _known_ he needed the startlingly red fruit that Eryka had just produced from her pockets until he’d seen it, but now he felt like he would give anything in order to possess it. Possibly offer his firstborn, but that seemed like overkill for an apple.

It was just…such a _vibrant_ deep red, alluring despite himself. The light caught it in just the right way. There was no way a fruit could have survived Ragnarök and still be in such a condition. Eryka caught them looking – them, because Val was just as ensnared as he was – and hesitated briefly before biting into it. Never had Loki experienced such envy as what he felt in that moment. He _wanted_ it. And he couldn’t have it.

_Who says? Steal it. Confiscate it as tax._

_No, Loki. NO. That is_ not _how you treat subjects you need to like you. (Subjects you could maybe grow to like, if you gave them (yourself) a chance.)_

“How?” Val breathed. Loki didn’t have an answer for her. Eryka apparently did, if not a very detailed one.

“They stay fresh around me,” She explained. “So I took some when we had to flee our home. I can’t reasonably explain it past that.”

“But I possibly can,” Said Loki, snapping out of his momentary stupor. “Seidr users are different from those who cannot manipulate the energy around them in that we –I believe the best word to describe it is _radiate_ – some of our energy gained from normal bodily processes out of our material bodies, especially if untrained in how to properly control it. That leaves a traceable signature, even though I cannot feel one from you, and if not carefully concealed it can be used to detect whether a mage or sorcerer has passed by recently, and also who the castor of a spell or working is, if you are particularly tuning in to detect that. If the signatures of two mages wildly differ, then even someone mostly untrained in the art of actually wielding Seidr can tell the difference, however since the quality to use Seidr _can_ be passed down a family line, with blood relations patterns are _generally_ more similar and so only trained mages can say for certain who cast what once they read the energy fields left remnant.

“From what I can tell, your connection to Yggdrasil has been cut, which means the currents of energy within you cannot be properly regulated. As someone who has only been cut off from their Seidr several times, I can _most_ honestly say I do not know how you have managed to live for so long the way you have. If _I_ had my connection to Yggdrasil and the wider webs of the Universe cut off I swear to you and anybody who might be listening that I would go mad within weeks, if that.

“It is entirely possible to consider that if your energy levels are unregulated and cannot be sensed by you or anybody else for that matter, for I am greatly trained, they therefore latch freely onto other biological matter, which in your case _appears_ to be apples, keeping them fresh with energy you would otherwise have been able to use to cast spells. If a sort of direct circuit has been formed with these apples, then that explains both keeping them well supplied with what they need to stay fresh _and_ making sure nothing can be sensed.”

It occurred to Loki that even with simpler terms as the ones he was using the concepts were still widely lost upon Eryka. Her eyes were wider than they had been before he’d started talking and it was safe to say that her attention was trained on him. “Oh. So what now?”

It was something that had to be carefully considered, especially as Loki had no experience with anything that paralleled this particular circumstance, however letting that be known to the young girl would probably be unwise on a number of counts and therefore he was going to go with the least potentially harmful next step he could think of:

“I would think that the way to go from here would be to break these circuits that are taking up any excess energy you’re radiating and use those energy currents as a way to delve deeper into your energy reserves and inner patterns. If they stop being immediately used up…” Loki trailed off, it occurring to him that leaving those currents unoccupied might cause more harm than good, especially if she had grown up constantly surrounded by biological life. The currents might also latch onto a person instead, which would interfere with their own energy…

“So what Mischief is saying is that we eat all the apples.” Val helpfully translated, naturally bending his meaning to suit her wants. Loki, being included in that ‘we’, could find no grounds upon which to base disapproval, however as the King’s brother one had to be fair and try to exercise power _responsibly_.

“And _you_ want to eat them.” Well, Loki couldn’t give her any points for being perceptive – that much would have been obvious to anybody across the hall.

“Ye-“

“Don’t feel pressured to give her any if you don’t want,” Loki interjected swiftly, earning himself a kick to the shins. “They’re yours after all.” The kick was followed by a pinch on his upper arm. Loki bit the inside of his mouth to keep from swearing at Val. He would get back at her. “And keep at least one, for now.” He instructed. “I don’t want to leave energies freely seeping out, especially seeing as it has been known to happen for them to collect into sentient currents which follow their source around causing disturbances.” What that meant, naturally, was that Loki had, over six hundred years ago, had allowed his Seidr to form autonomous beings that had plagued his sleep for months before he let them get big enough to have them sensed and removed by his mother. She’d been ever so worried about preventing him from repeating the incident. Which he naturally had never done – in front of her.

“What happens if I don’t follow your instructions? Do I get my head chopped off _then_?” Loki had forgotten how many pointless questions adolescents asked.

“No, you get assigned to the special duty of keeping Val here away from alcohol,” He replied cheerfully, patting Val on the shoulder. She shrugged him off.

“Which will ultimately result in you losing your head anyway because you can’t.” Val sent him a sharp glance which Loki chose to ignore.

“So you see, it’s entirely your choice.” He said pleasantly. He’d forgotten exactly how much he loved power. Thankfully Eryka seemed to get that he wouldn’t actually be executing anyone, except maybe Korg if he got too revolution-y.

“ _Megalomaniac._ ” Val muttered under her breath.

“It won’t be the first time I’ve been accused of being one if you say it a bit louder,” Loki told her.

“You _did_ really try to take over Midgard, right?” Eryka said, eyes slightly wide as she took yet another bite of apple.

“He did _what_? _All_ of it?” Great. Val was now staring at him like he was crazy. ( _You are and you know it._ )

Eryka bit her lip, glancing nervously at him before confirming. Loki kept his face smooth. He couldn’t control what conclusions others drew without significant mental meddling which he neither had the stomach for, recently, nor the power to spare attempting it. “I think so. Didn’t you know?”

“No.” Val was shaking her head slowly, and looking at him as she’d never truly seen him before. _Just you wait, that little catastrophe was_ nothing _compared to what I’ve done before this. And what I would have done if I hadn’t Fallen._ “He never told me.” He hoped this wouldn’t damage whatever sort of relationship they had. He didn’t want yet _another_ person avoiding him.

“It didn’t come up.” Loki protested, knowing that he had to come to his own defence. “And I publicly apologised for my actions just two days ago to boot! It was really humiliating.”

“Yeah, you’d say that.” Val pursed her lips once before cracking. “But _all_ of Midgard?”

“Technically I only did battle in New York.” _Technically_ I _didn’t want anything to do with conquering Midgard; I’m twisted, but not stupid enough to try and take over one of the Nine Realms right under the eye of the All-Father._

“Whatever the fuck that is.”

“A filthy city full of skyscrapers, I prefer Europe.” Loki exhaled mournfully. It was _true_ – Europe was so much more natural, you could _tell_ there was history. Additionally to the above you could also very easily get lost in the winding streets, which to Loki was part of the charm of many places.

“You prefer that centre of disease?” Val was in outrage, memory presumably sparking on something she’d seen or heard a millennia ago at the latest.

“It’s better now,” Loki said defensively. “And the buildings look much nicer.”

Eryka, who until now had been content to let them argue about the specific geographical regions of their destination, decided to contribute to the conversation, if a bit meekly compared to the pair of them. “Didn’t they kill all their Kings and Queens?” They both looked to him. Loki ignored that familiar sinking feeling that weighed on his chest despite the years long past and nodded.

“Not all of them, but several countries had revolutions and executed the royal families and the vast majority of the nobility consecutively.”

“Will they kill Thor?” Now Eryka looked positively horrified. “ _Can_ they do that?”

“Legally, no.” Loki said. That was true as far as he was aware – Midgard, not being active in intergalactic affairs, presumably did not have laws regarding aliens, let alone alien Kings. “Do they have the means? Probably, by now. They didn’t have any when I went, unless you count weapons of mass destruction.”

Eryka nodded thoughtfully before a light went on in her eyes. “Doesn’t that Kronian Korg want a revolution?”

“I don’t think he really understands what that entails.” Said Loki, who did. “He’s an idealist.”

“Yes he does.” Said Val who didn’t bother bubble-wrapping the truth.

“He won’t kill Thor.” Loki said immediately. “Or me, in case you were worried.”

“How can you be so sure?” Eryka challenged, something harder in her voice. “Your own sister just killed the majority of Asgard, and _she_ was Asgardian. Kronians aren’t even native to the Nine. What’s keeping him from doing it?”

Loki for a brief guilty moment considered denying Hela was his sister. Then the moment passed and he couldn’t possibly leave his brother to bear the weight alone. “Korg as an individual doesn’t have it in him to start a revolution. I have lived through several and have started a couple dozen. Korg does not have it in him, and these gladiators have had enough violence for now, I believe.” Val wasn’t going to stop pestering him now, he knew it. Eventually he’d have to spill some things to keep her tided over. He didn’t particularly feel like keeping them a secret anymore. She had the good sense to not question him about it now.

Eryka seemed to find his personal expertise in the matter enough to dull down her fears. Loki privately noted that maybe they needed to occupy Korg in particular so he would reduce the talk of revolution in an already unsteady kingdom. “Alright.” She nodded, looking thoughtful. “I never did tell you why I wanted to speak to you.”

“Well now is as good a time as any,” Loki replied. “Spill.”

Being given the go ahead, he found, greatly reduced Eryka’s chances of doing something as confidently as she’d set out. Food was now mostly forgotten, Val finishing off his fried vegetables, having already devoured the last bacon slice and stubbornly refusing to touch the purple mess on her tray.

“Well, Your Highness, I was…wondering when you would have a look at my Seidr as you said you would. If it wouldn’t be too much of a bother right now, that is.” She added, almost as an afterthought as if she realised she sounded too demanding. She did sound somewhat demanding for someone of no status to her name, and the phrasing did not make that any better, but Loki found that it suited her so _he_ couldn’t find it in himself to slight her for it. However the actual question itself was problematic, and one he’d selfishly hoped he wouldn’t have to face for a while.

“Well,” He began before pausing, just briefly. Whatever expression of suppressed hope or excitement had been on Eryka’s face had fallen.

“You’re too busy.” She mumbled, dejection seeping into her tone.

“Yes.” Said Loki, confirmation resting uneasy in his chest, forcing him to remind himself once and for all that he wasn’t doing this on _purpose_. “This isn’t a personal choice – I have a duty, and a responsibility by virtue of that title you so expediently use to keep doing it. I cannot make exceptions for one individual at this time. I do wish it weren’t so, but what has waited six hundred years will have to wait a few weeks more.”

“ _Weeks_?” Now Eryka sounded appalled. Loki supposed it would make sense, having been given hope only over two days ago. Val was also looking at him weird. How long did _she_ except him to take to _magically solve_ their armada of issues?

“It _is_ a lot of work.” Loki repeated, not letting his irritation at the small timer in his head for all the moments he was currently wasting when he could be getting on ahead with said armada of work and responsibilities be voiced aloud. That was for him to bear, and he needed to get back into the headspaces he had designed _specifically_ for dealing with work that needed to be done during times that were as pressing as the current situation. “It would be difficult to take however long needs to be spent on solving your case satisfactorily when there is so much to be done, planning in case of future threats included.”

“Wouldn’t having another magic user _increase_ security?” Val questioned. Loki wished that for once she’d stay out of this – he needed time and this was doing nothing but adding further false hope into the mix.

“Not if they can’t control their powers.” He’d seen it too many times on Sicardi, and other places with similarly dubious reputations. He’d had to order some people to clear out the bloody remains. “Then they become a danger to not only themselves but everyone around them. I cannot allow such a thing on board a still structurally unstable ship full of the last remains of my people.” Having it put into perspective did not brighten anybody’s mood. Not that Loki had expected it would.

They sat glumly around the table for a stonily silent moment. Loki, taking the opportunity to try the light gray fluid – and yes, he was going to keep calling it that – had almost forgotten to be expecting something horrendous. He was quickly _reminded_ of the fact of its awfulness – now becoming a highly personal experience – and found himself jolted out of dark thoughts of magic and death by the pungent, highly sour and woollen taste that was flooding his senses, tongue already in gastronomical pain and body bending over at the middle, fully unprepared to have such a substance breach its defences, normally perfectly flawless, of common sense. He may or may not have made a loud sound.

In other words Loki regretted his decision. Clearing out his throat and setting the glass down slowly and forcefully, Loki noticed he’d accidentally stolen the show of the entire canteen. Being well-accustomed to humiliation, and feeling the livid burn in his chest, he came to the decision that there was really nothing to be done here. Anything he could say would only draw further attention. As much as he enjoyed being in the spotlight, this was not the ideal event.

The interest was short-lived, and soon the heads were turned away again, obviously disappointed that there hadn’t been more of a show to cure them of their boredom, which Loki imagined was extreme. After all, notwithstanding the repair work that needed to be preformed but hadn’t been undertaken yet – Thor was likely going to want to see if his summons for an engineer or anybody with metal-welding experience had been fruitful – there wasn’t much to be done; there was no cloth, no soil that had been discovered on board and certainly no seeds, no programs for training or anything of the sort organised. On the other hand, if he had someone to follow him around and help him record what needed to be done…

That could possibly be helpful. Val wasn’t going to stick around, that much Loki could see from the get-go. She would go upstairs, speak shortly to Thorn to placate him for the time being, say something to Heimdall, then retire mid-morning in the saloon she’d appropriated and remain there until nightfall at which point Loki thought he or Thor might be sought out for late night drinking company. There was no way to occupy her for a long enough period to keep her away from alcohol, and he didn’t have the time to think of entertaining her with alternatives. As far as problems to assess went, this would have to wait.

Having a helper would be good not only for company – and Loki found that he’d dearly missed the easy company of having somebody you knew walk around with you and aimlessly chat about whatever nonsense had been going on in their lives – as long as he wasn’t trying to concentrate, then that person (the unfortunate being either Fandral, Volstagg or Sif) would just as soon become a handy target for dagger throwing practice, but also for making decisions; there were few better ways whilst swamped with work to see whether you were slowly losing your mind than having somebody review all your rambled-aloud thoughts. Not that Loki usually did much rambling, marking it a rare occasion, but it had been known to occur and one needed to be prepared.

At this point Loki had to look at Eryka, who had avoided meeting his gaze and was instead occupying her attention with her near-eaten apple, and offer to make her marginally more important than the average citizen. “How would you,” Loki began slowly, watching as Eryka realised she was being spoken to and straightened up almost immediately to form the very image of attentiveness, “Like to be my personal Aide and assist me with my duties?”

Obviously not expecting this to be his offer, Eryka blinked at him once before ducking her head down again. There was a visible line of tension in her body, and Loki hoped it wasn’t sudden qualms about having to spend time with him. “I’m uncertain as to how my mother would react, Your Highness-“

“If I ask her _I_ am certain she would be happy to know that you have something worthwhile to occupy your time with.” Loki interjected before she could go on a spiel. A voice whispered that she had been using her mother as an excuse, another rebuked it roughly and sent it into the metaphorical thought prison he’d erected in his mind. “All I need to know is whether you’d be interested-“

The girl jumped up, upsetting the entire bench upon which she had been seated, and which was thankfully entirely unoccupied. “ _Interested!_ Of course I’m interested, you’re _royalty_ and-“

“Is this all about royalty?” Val droned in the background. Eryka, seemingly realising that she had been near shouting, returned to her seat, glancing around nervously before continuing, imbued with marginally more restraint.

“Not all about royalty, it’s just that His Highness has agreed to help me with my Seidr as you know, and I didn’t want to miss an opportunity to spend more time…together.” Loki would have laughed as she trailed off, awkwardness swamping her once again, but not all people had his seeming resistance to _publicly_ melting around idols or figures of power –the latter designation being much more likely, in his case.

“That was also an element in my thinking,” He offered, “It would be easier to work together later if we form some understanding of the other now, and if we can’t get to it sooner, then at least it wouldn’t have been from a lack of trying.” This reasoning suited Eryka tremendously. Loki was certain she’d already been thinking around those lines at his proposal and, well, he’d frankly have been insulted if she hadn’t accepted it with the added prompting.

Eryka nodded. “That would probably convince my mother.”

Loki scoffed, not too unkindly. “Convincing your mother would never have been the problem.”

“Either way-“

“Are you two going to shake on it or not?” Came a line of input from Val. “I want to be relevant again.”

Loki turned to give Val an exasperated glance. “Give others their turn.”

She met his eyes, completely deadpan. “They’ve had plenty turn.”

“Fine.” Loki turned back to the girl. “So do we have a deal?” He extended a hand, palm up.

She gripped it, tighter than Loki would have expected. “Deal-“

Their entente was interrupted by a fair, red-headed woman, keeping her locks tied up in twin tight braids, bearing a medium height and who cleared her throat impatiently in order to announce her presence. Turning around measuredly, irked at being approached now and unwilling to seem caught off-guard, Loki smiled pleasantly, noting that she didn’t seem to be too fond of him, which was a sentiment he so far returned.

“Yes?” He didn’t let go of Eryka’s hand over the table.

“Your brother has sent me to request your presence, Your Highness. You are sorely missed at the conference room.” Crisp, clear and business-like, her voice was emotionless as her eyes travelled from him, to Eryka, to Val, and back. She evidently did not approve of this gathering.

“I see,” Loki replied, her stiff manner doing absolutely nothing to make him like her more. “And you are?”

“Alfid Formansdottir, Your Highness.” This one was not a fan of embellishments. The name however, he had heard before.

“The woman who took it upon herself to help with Asgard’s youth?” She herself had to be younger than Thor, but annoyingly a good few centuries older than Loki. He thought she might have belonged to some branch of a noble family, the way she held herself – he hadn’t been in the right mindset to check for people he knew who might have survived when he’d arranged the first roomings.

“We are one and the same, my Lord.” There was definitely an edge to her tone when she spoke to him. Loki wondered whether it was the sorcery, the crimes, or the heritage that did it for her. He found those usually explained away dislike upon his person.

“In that case, I believe I owe you a commendation.” Loki somewhat reluctantly slipped his hand from the strong grip Eryka had taken on him during the course of the conversation and stood to face Alfid. She remained looking distinctly unimpressed with him, mouth twisting downwards at the corners.

“That would be unnecessary.” She said curtly. “If you had been doing your duty, you would have been present when the _King_ thanked me for my service.” Loki was growing no fonder of this _pitiful_ being who seemed to think her words would do anything other than vex him.

He forced his jaw to unclench and said as amicably as to just border on sardonic, yet without making it enough for it to be reasonable to draw offence, “I do not see why you should turn down the thanks of someone who, historically, has been a lot less eager to give them out.”

“You have turned no more happy to gift them upon me – you do only what would aid you in any certain situation, including striking deals with minors, if what is in front of me is any indication.” Well, that much was true. It was only the fact that they were in public that kept him from projecting anything but cold politeness. Inside, he wished for nothing more but to _dismantle_ her. How dare she- how dare _anyone_ question him?

“There have been no deals made in which both parties have not had something to gain from the arrangement.” Loki had come to the end of wishing to instate himself on her good side, if she even had one regarding frost giants. The sentiment was echoed by his new Aide, who nodded in the background, though neglecting to speak up. In this situation, Loki couldn’t blame her.

“Naturally the one with more experience in the trade coming out on top.” _As if you have any idea what any of this is. Leave, you little_ urchin _, and don’t meddle in foreign affairs which you have no hope of understanding._

“I think that’s enough of you bothering him – if you have nothing else to say you can take your leave and go.” Val had entered the chat, evidently liking being the only person allowed to criticise Loki, not bothering to mask her feelings on the matter. If the look on her face didn’t make anyone falter, that person was surely as impenetrable as steel. To his, admitted, surprise, it did nothing to shake determined-to-attack-him Alfid. If she hadn’t been acting so beastly it would have earned her some of his respect.

“With all due respect, Valkyrie, I do not see why you should have any personal stake in the matter. If the Prince had felt so strongly about me stopping, I am sure he would have been more than capable of doing something himself. You come more as an unnecessary precaution in your presence here, unless the Prince is truly as weak as they say.” _Truly as weak as they say._ Who were _they_? People on board, connections since dead? An insult was an insult however, no matter the source (he would have to determine, track and exterminate it). Loki let his mouth snap shut. This was going beyond a petty dislike of his character. This was slander, and it had attracted attention, as slander always did.

Val, who Loki remembered was possibly rather drunk by now – or just barely, experiments would have to be held – didn’t seem to like what the woman was suggesting of her presence here. She’d stood up sometime in the last minute, not that it particularly improved her chances to dominate in the height department. Nevertheless, it seemed to tip the scales in his favour. “If you think that I’ve been employed as a _guard_ , particularly to this being here, you’re very mistaken. I go near _no one_ unless by my own preference, and you have no right to judge who I determine to be fit company. Just because Loki _happens_ to be a Prince doesn’t mean I particularly like that part of his existence, or care.” Well, she nevertheless seemed to be managing swimmingly.

“Someone who lives by the bottle can very easily be convinced that they are doing something by their own free will.” That was true but Loki wasn’t going to team up with this creature in order to publicly berate his… associate on the subject of her alcoholism. It had been a foul move, that. One had to be able to judge which issues were allowed to be brought up where.

“Well you can judge whether I’m stabbing you by my own free will or not-“ Loki found himself having to haul Val back after an attempted assault.

“No, Val, that is a _horrible_ idea!” He got out in a hushed voice, struggling to hold her back. She was short, but _strong_. It had to be a Valkyrie thing, that.

“ _You’re_ a horrible idea.” Came the reply, but thankfully quiet enough so that only the four of them in the vicinity could hear.

“That may be so, but doing this is hardly good for PR,” Loki hissed in her ear. “Talking about the wisdom of your drinking habits aside, you know this is not helping your case. If I recall correctly, the negative impact it has upon reasoning is what drew you to it to begin with.”

“What you’re saying is that this isn’t a battle you think I can win.” She hissed back.

“If this was a bar, I wouldn’t be stopping you. If you meant what you said about re-forming the Valkyries, or at least training citizens to be warriors, you’ll have plenty of opportunities to punish people with weaponry in the training ring.” He pointedly looked down at her dagger, which she was still gripping stubbornly.

Val subsided, albeit reluctantly. “Fine, have it your way.” She huffed, more audibly than the rest of their conversation, sitting back down and crossing her arms over her chest, dagger still held unsheathed. A quick glance let him assert that Eryka was still there – indeed, she was, apple eaten to the core and forgotten in front of her – he would have to remind her to save the seeds - watching the proceedings with a kind of curious zeal. Loki wondered how much of a reality-type show this appeared to be from outside.

Alfid seemed to find deliberate enjoyment in antagonising everybody and every little thing that occurred around him. “You claim to be doing everything out of your own free will, yet you let him order you around like any other servant.”

“It is my _decision_ to-“

“ _Val_ ,” Loki growled at her. “Restraint. Use it. As for you,” He glared at Alfid who did not seem put out by any of this, “It would be wise to remember exactly _who_ you are speaking so carelessly to.” What did she even _want_ from this? To rile him up, to expose him as unstable, to provoke him and gain insight for herself? He doubted anybody would do this without a motive, and anybody who _did_ usually would have run off by now. No, there was something in this, but _what_ remained to be seen. Was Val being attacked because she was with him at the present moment, or was this something else?

“I know very well who I am conversing with, Your Highness. I also happen to notice that you have taken the liberty of dressing yourself in no way befitting your station.”

Loki thought Val might’ve been about to intervene once again on his behalf (and possibly on behalf of all the tight leather), but he beat her to it, deciding that enough was _enough_ , and if this impertinent short red-headed goblin wasn’t going to shut up on her own, then he was obviously going to have to help her through it. Ignoring the sound of blood rushing through his ears, ignoring the way he longed to unleash his magic and blow this room to _bits_ , ignoring every dark desire that flashed through his mind’s eye, Loki reigned himself in.

“And it is in no way befitting yours to tell your Crown Prince what he can or cannot do. You seem to think having Thor’s attention makes you somewhat… _special_. Let me dispel that for you: it does not. If you pick battles with those who have no patience to ‘play along’, no amount of _commendations_ will save you.” Loki narrowed his eyes. “And there are people in this world, Alfid, who can tolerate very _little_ of it. This is not a threat – just a warning from somebody who would absolutely _hate_ to find your corpse.” His lips formed a small vindictive smile all on their own. “And in case you thought of attempting to incite a little conflict again, my _dear_ , you should know that this civil conversation is the _closest_ the two of us are ever going to come to a _peaceful_ solution.” He stepped back and regarded her, letting his cold glare speak for itself.

It would have been easy to make that heated, to let the steam coming off from his boiling veins come loose. He could have done all that he’d wished to, cause physical harm, make a ruckus. Loki found that was too… standard for him. If words could encase the flesh in ice, that was what those whom he had spoken would have done.

Asgard had always found his glares disturbing, not because they were glares, but because people had claimed there was something entirely alien in them. Words he spoke were treated the same. He wasn’t the only person on Asgard capable of using language to his advantage – in the scheming court, far from it – but Loki had discovered early on what gave his targets cold shivers and what made him so formidable in a political landscape.

Anger on Asgard was heated, hot flames that were easily stoked. It burned, it raged, it fought. Loki had wanted his anger to be the same – sometimes it had prevailed, but those were the times when Loki was young and didn’t understand that those expressions of anger couldn’t have suited the part he played best at the least, and often attracted ridicule rather than the wanted response.

Then one day he’d tried the cold wither on Thor. Raging hadn’t worked against his older brother, nearly fully grown whilst Loki was but a mere child. So he hadn’t let his anger explode out of him. Just that once, Loki had kept it all in, letting nothing permeate to the surface. Only the mind-numbing cold he wanted Thor to _feel_. According to his brother later, there had never been a reaction to a quarrel more unsettling than that.

From that day forth, Loki switched tactics. If his fire couldn’t blaze his enemies into ashes, ice would do it for him. It became his signature. That deadly calm he’d trained himself into, that cold that crept through the air, over the floors, and weaved through water to claw at the hearts and minds of those who dared to challenge him. Asgard hadn’t been prepared for him. Asgard started to avoid him. Loki refused to relent. He became the symbol of darkness and reclusion that prompted rumours and set off hordes of people trying to get him to break and finally return to the ‘normal’ ways of the country. Loki had decided to humour them. A few of those people had had trouble articulating themselves from then on. Loki couldn’t be blamed – they’d sought his specific brand of fire out after all. Such was the law, designed to correlate with Asgardian tempers. Sometimes Loki _loved_ the law.

If Alfid had been prepared for an explosive display of rage at the continued insults, she had been preparing for the wrong natural disaster. Whatever she knew about him that made her hate him, she hadn’t known enough. In a way, those that had complained of his _alien_ ways had been right; Loki wasn’t born of Asgard and never would be. In his veins ran the freezing lands of Jotunheim, with its strange beauty and the destruction strew throughout the Realm, a little _parting gift_ from Asgard. He may despise himself utterly because of it, but he was no fool. He used every last advantage he had.

Breaking eye contact without a second glance, Loki gave Eryka a friendly grin. “Don’t forget to save the seeds,” He said, gesturing at the apple core that she held, face gone nearly slack at the woman who didn’t seem too inclined to regain animation. Val had blinked several times and appeared to be thinking something over. Loki was immensely content with these reactions he’d elicited. There was no need to remain here any longer.

“Come, Valkyrie. Let us go find my brother and join him in that room he’s holed himself up in very rudely without informing us.”

“That we shall do, Your Highness.” Val (his limited-edition warrior) answered with a tangible underlying current of satisfaction to her voice. Loki got the feeling he’d impressed her – to an extent.

The scene he’d made left frozen behind them, they had no trouble leaving the hall, unceremoniously dismissing Alfid Formansdottir.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm very interested to hear what you all thought of this chapter, any feedback you have to give, either on the writing itself or the story, is very welcome and I will read and cherish it <3
> 
> I hope to see you next week, or the one after that if my brain stops working again, take care!
> 
> (I am aware that there were probably too many dialogue tags but I'm just defeated at this point I'll make less of them in the future I'm sorry for making you read this.)


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apparently drinking without thinking wasn't the best idea Loki has ever had. Apparently neither was going off on a being that was annoying him. Thor is less than happy to have to tell him this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A dear commenter of mine once hinted they enjoyed the conversations Loki had with himself (or does his internal monologue count as a separate being? We are unsure whether such splits in consciousness due to Mind Stone intervention have occurred.). Therefore I made sure to include some of that here.
> 
> It's not about quantity, but quality, something I learned from last week oops, so without further ado I present to you a 10K chapter by yours truly. Norns, I wrote so bloody much, remember the good old days when we had 1000 word chapters? You know, no wonder I'm posting this late on a Saturday these things keep getting longer and longer. Please let the next one be shorter!
> 
> Without further ado, enjoy!

There wasn’t much in terms of traffic in the corridors that they traversed, seeking to arrive at the desolate land that was the conference room. That was hardly surprising, seeing as this route led mostly to the twenty spacious rooms that were yet to find owners amongst those most worthy of an upgrade.

The confrontation that had occurred at the hall didn’t rest easy with him, and he could tell that Val was thinking, even if he didn’t know the inner workings of her mind. (It took more than a single glance within to understand how someone operated. Once enough time was spent inside, however, everything could become known; thinking patterns, reaction, memories. Loki feared he was no longer the sole owner of that information.) He himself wasn’t sure _what_ to think about first. In the hall he’d assumed it had something to do with _what_ he was, but now that he was out of the situation he knew he couldn’t put everything to ‘Jotun’ and leave it there. The notion itself was more likely than not influenced by his own thoughts, which were strongly biased on the matter, as much as his head screamed that he was right in feeling like his did, and the stoic knowledge lurking in the background that nobody who should be allowed to raise children would in their right mind expose them to what was essentially propaganda against their own species. ( _If it wasn’t for all those history books and nursery stories, would you feel like how you do today? We’re not supposed to be hardwired into hating our own kind._ )

It might be in itself something entirely different, based on _whos_ rather than whats, and Loki was aware that he was a very polarising figure. On one end he cut a striking political figure – if physically not as perfect as _Thor’s_ – he was pragmatic, he dealt with threats efficiently, he was somebody who could lead. On the other he was arrogant, proud, selfish and untrustworthy in all aspects. Being a public figure by default let anybody and everybody judge him, which wasn’t something that Loki would have contested if given the chance, but it did mean more flaws could be found within him than the regular being. It didn’t help that he was _slightly_ criminally inclined.

Alfid hadn’t been wrong when she’d pointed out the imbalances of the deal – even if she had not been privy to what it was concerned with. It would be around a century and a half at least before Eryka even qualified to be considered of age, and those laws were only flexible to accommodate their vast lifespans, with it not being uncommon for some more childish Asgardians to be considered adults only upon reaching their thousandth year, which was the longest anybody could be considered a child. Thor had cut it close at nine-hundred and twenty-seven for a Prince (and especially the _Crown_ Prince but it would have been absurd to give him his majority when logical reasoning was on an extended vacation and had been for several centuries), whilst Loki very smugly had his eight-hundred and fifteen years to be proud of before being legally able to do whatever he wished. Looking back, he was amazed Odin had given him independence so early on, but perhaps the old man had known about some of Loki’s hobbies and hadn’t been willing to put himself in a position to be held responsible.

He was on the fence of looking back to every interaction he’d ever had with the man he’d called Father, knowing full well that if he did he would likely be stuck in that rabbit hole forever, when Val rescued him from the prospect. He wondered whether it had shown on his face where the direction of his thoughts had been going, and contented himself with an assurance that this did no damage and that he still could hold his own when he had to. (And he could, couldn’t he? After all, even if the Grandmaster had known Loki’s feelings on the subject of their relationship, he’d made no comment, which with him meant that at least the fear and the discontent wasn’t _visible_.)

“I can’t help but think there was something in what the redhead was saying, Loki.”

“Oh?”

“It’s making me doubt this decision of mine all over again.”

“The one where you associate with me or the one where you leave Sakaar for good?”

“Both. But especially the first one.” A pause ensued. It was a fair doubt, Loki thought. He wasn’t the best person to be associated with. “You’re _not_ using me for personal protection, right, _Loki?_ ”

“Of course not,” Loki replied. “If anything, you are more of a hazard to my health. Did you seriously believe her?”

“I _do_ practice caution when I find myself around your type.”

“And what type would that be?” His lips tilted up at the corners.

“You know perfectly well what sort of person you are, Mischief.” She told him, unwilling to pander to his ego.

“Start me off.” Loki pressed, grin in place.

Val held up a hand ready to count his failings in moral character – or his strengths, as Loki preferred to call them. “Manipulating,”

“Cunning,”

“Lying,”

“Scheming,”

“Excessively proud,” _Was_ it excessive? Probably, for someone with his credentials and list of bounties on his head.

“Powerful.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Val paused in her counting.

“Then you have some catching up to do,” Loki told her with a grin.

“I’m only willing to put ‘influential’ at most.”

Loki sighed, a dramatism that could have been foregone. “I find myself unable to fault you in your short-sightedness, seeing as you have seen nought of me yet but what is only a shadow of my former self.”

Val laughed. “R-ight. Call me when that mythical figure of power wakes up. You might have some strong cards up your sleeve, but you’ve got to think me stupid if you want me to believe you can rival Thor.” Of course, it always came down to Thor in Asgard.

“I notice you have assumed this is an attempt to prove myself better than my brother, despite my giving you no such indication.” Of course, it had always been about Thor. Everything was about Thor. Loki might kid himself that it was all about him, but it all stemmed from what he felt being around Thor. He couldn’t do _anything_ without it having link back to perfect, golden, _Thor_. Why couldn’t he be a perfect psychopath, just for a day, so he could rid himself of this nuisance and feel no regret, just for a day?

“Loki, seeing your relationship from the side is all the indication one needs – do you think that I have in all my years of life never seen cases such as yours? Why do you think I-“ Val shut her mouth, abruptly cutting off the sentence, and Loki presumed the train of thought entirely. “This is why I hate you,” Val said darkly –refusing to even glance at him – which he believed was indeed the case. “I was having such a nice time on Sakaar and then your pretty ass shows up and I have the misfortune of stopping your brother from being killed by scavengers for food and _argh_ why couldn’t you have _died?!_ Died and left me _alone_. This all ended up happening because of _you_ , somehow.” She couldn’t possibly appreciate exactly how right she was. Loki supposed even he couldn’t, for this messy business had yet to come to a satisfactory conclusion. ( _Would that conclusion be when you are dead? Isn’t it cruel to deal with someone who has already lost everybody once knowing full well you intend to be dead by the end of this?_ )

“Do you call 10 million units a misfortune?” He didn’t wish to address the absence of his own death, and that of Thor’s. Nor the fact that he was, on some level, deeply despised here too.

“I call the destruction of my nice little illusion of a happy life a misfortune.” Val grumbled, finally looking at him again, eyes dark. For a moment, Loki thought he might be attacked, but the vengeance which had flashed at him dulled and he slowly released hold of the spell he had been about to cast in self-defence.

“You’re secretly glad you’re here.” Loki said. He knew he was. “You might hate it, and believe me after everything-“

“Which I still know _nothing_ about-“

“-A part of me desperately wishes that this had never happened and that I’d died a long time ago, perhaps in one of my illnesses as a child. But I’ve reclaimed my life; I’m no longer that shadow that hides in that corner of your mind where all the cobwebs go. I’m more alive than I’ve been in years.” It was true. He wasn’t free, could never be truly free, not now, not ever, but he felt less stifled than in decades, centuries. He couldn’t keep this- no, that had been a lie, he definitely _could_ keep this from Val, he could enact his plans and stop being so needy, so talkative, so… friendly might be a word for it. He didn’t have to talk, didn’t have to try and be supportive, didn’t have to let anybody in. It might be a nice gesture of a sort, but he didn’t _need_ to do.   
But then again, what was so special about Val, about Thor, about Heimdall, about _any_ of them that Loki had to constrain himself and hold in everything that he was thinking? Why did he think he owed them any of that? Why punish _himself_? ( _Because you deserve it._ ) What made them deserve to be fooled into thinking he was fine? Shoo the mercy out and let them deal with it the way it was. (Deal with him the way he was. Loki didn’t know if he could handle letting them see it.)

_From now on, new change in tactics regarding people: Choose a handful that you like and give yourself some companionship, toss all the rest into a bag labelled ‘beings’ and be that cold marble statue you would look so good as._ That was close enough to what the old Loki had done, right? Except his brother had never been part of that ‘handful’ that he’d liked. There was no point in thinking where they were now. And this – it would surely be more sustainable in the long run. And if it wasn’t, he was going to die anyway. He needn’t plan for the long-run, _his_ long-run in any case. ( _How would Thor react to hearing this? Are you willing to leave your brother alone?_ ) ( _I do what I have to. I’ve_ always _done what I’ve had to._ )

“So what was all that back there in the hall?” Another welcome intervention. He was keeping this one, if not for anything else than the good timing.

“I am under the impression that that constituted an encounter with somebody who rather disliked me and wanted to go after my person, and possibly you-“

Val cut him off with a shake of her forefinger, counting long forsaken. “Uh-uh. Not me. Just you.”

Loki frowned. “Did I experience a vivid hallucination where you tried to kill her or-?” Not that he believed that. He was fairly certain that had happened.

_How sure of anything can you be, really?_ That little voice of doubt, back again. _You never left. You’re still there, falling. Strange was just a glitch of your mind, reminding you of your reality._

The rush of air around him suddenly cutting off. The loss of light, the stars slowly slipping out of reach until he lost the ability to perceive anything. He didn’t breathe. He didn’t drink. He didn’t eat. He didn’t understand how he could exist like this. He was stationary but he was sure he had been _falling_ when he’d let go but there was _nothing here_ , nothing there but _him_ , and his _thoughts_ and he didn’t know how long he’d been here and there was no up or down or sideways and it was cold – so very _cold_ , with no way to feel anything _but_ cold and the terror set in like ice over his heart because he had meant to die not trap himself in whatever this was, he’d only wanted to _die_ why was he permitted not even _this_ , he’d wanted an _end_ was this what death felt like? But that was impossible, this couldn’t possibly be _death_ , this was a dreadful prolonged existence that he couldn’t stop, couldn’t _feel_ and he sunk his nails into his flesh hoping there would be _some_ sensation, some sensation to prove that he was _real_ because how could he be real if nothing else around him was and blood poured from the wounds he made and it seemingly did it in a direction but when he tried to follow it it slipped away and there was still _nothing_ , he was bleeding but it did nothing yet he _felt_ the pain and so had to exist but how? Where? _Why_? There was nothing here but him. He closed his eyes (had they been open?) and he let himself fall into colour and light and then he imagined he was alive again for was this not death and the world fell neatly into place-

His heart was beating like crazy. _No. No no no no no, this is_ real _, this_ has _to be real, even if it isn’t I’m still here, I still need to make the most of this, I got out, I’m free, I’m gone, I’ve been rescued and then I’ve broken free, this is real, this is my_ reality _-_

_If it even_ can _be called reality._

_No. Don’t do this to me, not again._ Not again _. We’ve been over this_ so many times _-_

_Obviously not enough if you still haven’t got the memo. This isn’t real, none of this is real but your_ mind _, and you’re spiralling, falling, and yet there’s nothing here so you may as well be staying still-_ He was going to lose it.

“Nope, that was real.” Val’s voice, blessedly quick to assert him, cut through his thoughts. Loki could have wept. “But it wasn’t to do with me. I was just conveniently there. She may have been hoping to goad you into taking action _through_ me-“

“So we both agree that I was being baited-“ Loki seized the opportunity to think about something else, anything else, the fact that he _existed_ and that he was _hated_ helping him keep his white-knuckled grip on his sanity. That was, in many ways, pathetic.

“That much is obvious, yes – I’m drunk, not _stupid_ – but what I _was_ saying was that she didn’t personally hate _me_. Who knows, maybe she had a bad encounter with a Valkyrie as a girl, maybe she has a problem with the Order. But as much as I wanted to gut her, I can recognise that I wasn’t the target.”

_I’m drunk, not stupid_. It would have been so much less tragic if she had been lying. Val was somebody who was too clever for her own good and had fallen into drink as a way to cope with the loss of everything she’d had. It was painfully obvious that it was morning; Loki doubted such a conversation would have been possible during the evening. It was a pity, really. Here was somebody who functioned on a higher level, with so much knowledge, skill, _potential_ , and who was driving it all out of her head, completely voluntarily.

Loki was prone to destructive behaviours himself; he supposed it was a common plague upon individuals such as him, such as _them_. He suspected that his brother might be included in that list. Thor had never been in such a low place as Loki, who had never been in a low place for as long as Val. There was therefore not enough evidence to support a definitive answer. Loki hated to think what might become of him if he lost him too – Loki was no stranger to loss; Thor had never suffered such a defeat as this one.

In hindsight, Loki should have given more thought to last night – Thor as a rule drank as a way to celebrate, seeking to extend the mood of cheer, give himself the strength to continue drunkenly singing till the early hours of the morning. Loki drank as a way to drown himself, to remove all conscious thought from his mind, to end up in someone’s bed or to end up passed out and blissfully unconscious. Hard, fast, destructive to his utmost limits. Last night Thor had been drinking like _him_. And Loki didn’t like that.

What to do with this information? Confronting Thor didn’t seem like something he would do. Thor was the one who barged in and confronted outright, holding up the evidence of whatever Loki was being accused of now. Maybe he should tip off Heimdall? But Heimdall would already know… if Heimdall wasn’t doing anything that meant nothing could be wrong with his brother, right? Except Loki had trusted people before. Said people were the reason he was navigating his way through a damaged crowded ship with the last Valkyrie. No, he’d do something himself. Nobody else could possibly be trusted with Thor. He’d figure it out.

“Well that much at least is useful to know,” Loki inclined his head in a nod. “I suppose we can hardly turn back now and demand she explain herself. Nor do I think she would be willing to. As it is, I’ve had enough of peasantry.”

“I can bet she isn’t.”

“As far as she stands now, she as good as is. The only people with any sort of resources at the moment are me and you, and I have no idea what Heimdall could be hiding. Or simply keeping, he isn’t the sort of selfish person to keep assets to himself.”

“Unlike us.” Val finished his unspoken thought.

“We’re a different story.” Loki agreed. “But most of what I have in terms of monetary wealth is from Sakaar – I don’t want to have to explain that.” This, suddenly, was a problem. His accounts were inaccessible. The only money he had came from that shithole, apart from a few smaller cards he’d kept in his favoured dimensional pocket and which Thanos hadn’t ordered confiscated. (Which Thanos hadn’t ordered him to _give_ , because Loki would have done anything by the end just to get it to _stop_.) ( _Then why did they have to use the Stone on you?_ )

It was surprising on all accounts, actually, that he hadn’t been required to give up anything. Of course, at the time he’d fallen he hadn’t been connected to most of his stashes and space pockets, not expecting that he’d let himself fall and even less expecting that he’d survive once he made the choice. Being King on Asgard had allowed him to reopen some of those connections, however Loki hadn’t been expecting Thor to show up out of nowhere and just rip apart his whole charade and so had never bothered to track down his cards and chips. He’d gotten too comfortable. At least the grapes had been the best quality he’d ever eaten. Funny how the quality of goods delivered increased dramatically when you were no longer just the second prince. ( _Why_ did _no one value me as they should have? What kept them from giving me what they gave Thor?_ )

“Just don’t offer an explanation and I don’t think your brother will press. He saw me get paid ten million Units for him, he’ll probably assume something similar, Sakaar being what it is and all.”

“I don’t want my own brother thinking me a slaver!” Loki hissed, knowing full well that Val had spent a thousand years selling souls. That might not’ve been a great idea, but he was _not_ going to be suspected of such a crime.

“And what about me?” Val demanded, stopping in her tracks and turning to face him. “Do you want him to continue thinking I am the only one out of the two of us who would do such a thing?”

Loki straightened. “Indeed I do. You sold people into slavery for the Grandmaster’s entertainment. I did not. I do not know what you expect from me, but I cannot make that _untrue_. I am not here to discuss your feelings, _I_ do not wish to be associated-“ _With the kind of low-life that would do that_. “with that trade.” (Bit late now, isn’t it Loki?)

Val pursed her lips and turned away, shoving one shoulder into the wall. For just a moment, Loki let his gaze follow them before realising what he was doing and snatching his attention back.

“Alright, fine. You don’t want to be ‘associated’ with it. Neither do I but I suppose you’re _right_. You’re always right when you shouldn’t be.” Suppressed anger radiated all around her. He took several moments before he replied, letting the flow of it continue uninterrupted until enough of it was in the air and the guilt it had been hiding was filling more of the Valkyrie than the space taken up by the urge to kill him.

“Is that a bad thing?” Loki questioned softly.

“Don’t try that tone with me, _please_.” For a moment, a truly plaintive note took over her voice. “I don’t want to- You _know_ what I don’t want to.” Val whirled so she was facing him and this time Loki summoned a dagger. He wanted to keep his face.

If he hadn’t been reading emotions, he would have dropped the weapon when he saw hers. She was biting the inside of her mouth to keep her lower lip from trembling and her eyes were wet – genuinely full of shining _tears_ – a mask of mixed frustration and grief. It was disturbing, on a number of levels, and he had stepped into a minefield he didn’t want to navigate.

“I’m sorry,” He said instead, because somebody had to. “We agreed not to discuss Sakaar.”

“I’ll pardon you.” Val replied, the words getting stuck in her throat before being forced through. She shifted so he couldn’t see her wiping her eyes furiously. When she spoke again it was more level, the threat of an explosive outburst receding. “After all I did the same to you yesterday. We’re just not good at keeping to the guidelines we set.”

“Does that mean something?”

“Unless you want to stop- communicating-“ She had been about to put something else there. Did this mean to her as much as it did to him? Whatever they had, it seemed that they were both reluctant to let go of it.

“I do not wish to stop communicating.” Loki put it shortly. Internally, the list of things he did not want to stop doing with Val was going over itself. He slowly started back towards their destination.

“So what _are_ you going to tell Thor as an explanation for the money? If you don’t want him making the assumption…”

“I mentioned betting to him, I’ll use that.”

“Yes, that’s a good one.” Val agreed with a nod. “I never really bet on matches that much – it was always the casinos that got me. Right next to the bars, they were. Unless you want to tell Thor about how most of that money really got there.”

Every time he’d wake up, still exhausted and aching and head pulsing, a bright coloured drink to drive away feelings on his nightstand, there would be a fresh sum of money into the account Loki had opened, with very patronising guidance coming from his benefactor. Loki had grown to judge quite accurately exactly _what_ he had been rewarded on. It had made him feel sick to his stomach. It still made him sick to his stomach. Nevertheless he’d always done it again the next time, perfect little whore that he was. He always couldn’t decide whether to laugh or to sink to the floor sobbing.

“ _I_ _sold_ _myself_ , Val. I let a sybaritic powerful immortal being do _whatever_ he wanted to me in exchange for my life. Do you think I want my brother knowing that? Do you think I want him to know that I debased myself so utterly? You know I’m sick at myself and you want me to _tell_ him?”

“It was just a suggestion, Mischief.” She said quietly. “I’m not exactly leaping to discuss what I did there either.”

“Telling him would be the worst thing I could ever do.” Loki repeated stubbornly. “He’ll either refuse to look at me again or worse, try to give me _support_ or something similarly ridiculous.”

“It’s possible you might have your priorities wrong.”

“It is not only possible but in fact extremely likely, however that doesn’t mean I feel the need to remedy it.”

“How _are_ you planning to move on from this? You can’t keep living like this Mischief, you’ll worry people.” _Will I worry_ you _? Is that what you’re trying to say?_

“Ignore it till it goes away.” It never would.

“I don’t know if something like that _can_ go away on its own. It’s damaging and if you cared about yourself at all you’ll do something about it. Then again, nobody else has ever gotten away from the Grandmaster without first being completely wrung dry. And those ones only manage it with a convenient fall of thirty stories. Didn’t tell you at the time, but those nice rooms of yours, everyone who has ever used them in a thousand years is dead. Just as well that we got into that scrap, you might’ve lasted several months but nobody has ever beaten ten.” _Thank you, Val. I really needed to hear that._

“See, that’s what _I_ try telling you about alcohol, but who will listen to me?” Val conveniently dropped the topic after that. Loki concluded they were both horrible hypocrites.

“Hey Loki,” Val said after a moment.

“Yes?”

“I think we’re running very late to the meeting.”

\---------------------------------------

Arriving arrogant and long overdue to a meeting was always entertaining. Loki enjoyed it no less when he threw open the door and strode into the conference room, Valkyrie at his side. He was slightly perplexed to find Thor drinking tea with Heimdall. When did Thor ever drink tea? Scouring his memory, the last time he remembered it happening was during a brief period of illness when their mother had taken the opportunity to try and push some proanthocyanidins into Thor. Thor had sworn that he’s never touch the substance again.

“Hello there, Loki.” There was something in Thor’s tone which made it seem a touch too genial. Loki did not believe that was a good sign.

“Hello Thor.”

“Where’s the alcohol?” Val frowned. “There should be alcohol here.”

“There is none in this room, Valkyrie.” Heimdall said.

“And what of the bottle you so graciously confiscated two day ago?” Loki was still slightly peeved about that; he had a very limited supply.

“Unlike you, Your Highness, I do not carry abundant supplies with me whilst completing my duties.”

“Your duties differ from mine so I do not contest that,” He took a seat on Thor’s right, “However I still wonder what became of the mead.”

His brother smiled. “And what sort of duties do you have, Loki, that require alcohol?”

“You’d be surprised.” And extremely scandalised. He smiled back. “It is typically a matter of negotiation.”

“Which you will no doubt have to learn to actively partake in, Your Majesty.” Heimdall said. “We need to plan for the inevitable bartering for supplies if we wish to reach Midgard still living. As King, it would be unbecoming if you did not take the forefront when bargaining for supplies.”

“You want to replace me?!”

“Only when it is needed Loki,” The watcher replied with a fond smile at his outburst. “It is well known that you are unparalleled in getting what you want.”

“Whether we want to go to Midgard still being a highly contestable point.”

Thor frowned at him. “I really hope that is a Royal ‘we’, Loki.”

“Shouldn’t you get that man you entrusted the Bridge here if we are going to discuss possible locations to re-supply and repair the ship?” Val asked, sounding bored in the seat next to Heimdall. She at least seemed comfortable next to the watcher.

“He said he’s only been out of the Nine on half a dozen occasions,” Thor pointed out. “Would he know anything of stations and planets that might be welcoming?”

“Only one way to find out.”

“Only one _socially-accepted_ way to find out.” Loki corrected. “Not that I am currently condoning torture.”

Val snorted. “Currently.”

“One can never write something off entirely.”

“I believe one can.” Heimdall speared him with a look. “Especially when they have a history with the practice.” Had he seen? No, that would be impossible; Loki couldn’t believe that Heimdall could see and yet not tell anyone. Perhaps he should have placed wards barring himself from being seen before making use of the baths and showers on board this stupid ship. Scars were telling.

“And I believe Loki should stop mentioning such things.” Thor stressed, frowning at him.

Loki inclined his head. “As you will.” Perfect. An excuse not to say anything. Thor himself had told him so, right? ( _Taking things out of context will only get you so far, little god_.) That didn’t sound like his voice.

“So why’re the two of you sitting here like you have nothing better to do and drinking tea?”

“Heimdall wisely proposed the activity as an alternative to all the alcohol aboard this ship. And we _have_ been waiting for you. For a long time.”

“Then why weren’t we _told_?” Loki demanded. “And why did you _have_ to send that woman to go get us?”

“Was your conversation not pleasant?” Thor was playing dumb on purpose and Loki for once was going to play right into it.

“Was our- you are sitting _right next to_ the watcher and you-“

“We thought she might complement your delightful breakfast experience.” It hadn’t been delightful. Thor knew that. All of this had been deliberate.

“Why did you send her on purpose?”

“Because sometimes you need to think a little.” Thor said. _Thor_. What right did Thor have to discuss thinking? “Though I admit hearing about your encounter makes me regret exposing her to you, if not finding the results helpful in the long run.” _Results?_ Had this been a social experiment? Had Thor actually set them up? Did he think Loki was his guinea pig?

“And what results would that be?”

“Valkyrie, what did you think of the food?” Heimdall cut through their conversation. Heimdall never cut through conversations. They’d been set up and he hadn’t picked up on it. That was worrying – was it the suspects or was he losing something else?

“Why are you even _asking_ me? It was absolutely revolting, you must’ve seen my reaction.”

“And how did the people around you react to it?”

“They felt the same.” She sounded perplexed. Loki knew this was leading up to something big and he didn’t like to think of what. “Why are you even asking me this? What are you hoping to achieve?” For a second their eyes met. There was a question in her dark ones and Loki minutely shook his head. He wasn’t affiliated in whatever this was. It was a victory when she accepted his answer.

“Did you know that if the grey fluid is combined with the purple dessert the two react and sugary cubes are formed?”

“That would have been useful written down.” Loki said. “I assume you’ve seen this eaten before.” _You know,_ I’m _meant to be the villain._

“Uhhh no. _How were we meant to know that_?” Val was quite understandably upset. Loki would have been outraged on her behalf, but an inking held him back, whispering that all this would somehow end up biting him.

“If you had been sitting with others you would have seen what they were doing. Having discovered this morning’s food in a crate displaced by the Hulk, we those we were sitting with what to do – if either of you had gone to see what they were doing you would have been privy to the information as well.” Thor told them, seeming smug that he had been able to one-up Loki, albeit in the most stupid way possible.

“So you are punishing me – us – for being antisocial.” Having deciphered the message, Loki crossed his arms, feeling mutinous. “How is that fair?”

“I cannot speak for Val but you, Loki, are a public figure. You are not meant to be hiding in a corner, and you have done _enough_ of that recently. I do not know what you were all saying to each other down in the hall, however I am, as King, not happy with how my heir presumptive dealt with it. Threats are not there to be given from a Prince to a courtier as a means of control, but for a ruffian to threaten their victim with. And I do not wish my reign to be marred by such behaviour.”

“How did we _get_ here?” Loki demanded, incredulous. Why did everything have to link in such stupid ways? He didn’t _like_ being in the middle of eating crowds, he could threaten whoever he wanted, and this was none of Thor’s business! “Why is everything pitted against me? Why am _I_ always the problem? I thought _you_ wanted to move past this!”

“Despite all your promises, you are still not fulfilling your duty, that’s how, Loki! I’ll excuse the late night drinking as I too am guilty of it, but the problem is your _behaviour_. It is not your existence that causes problems, but the way you _react_ to them. Our father let that run unchecked in both of us, but now I see, as should you, that _shouting_ isn’t a solution and neither are punishments when no crime has been done.”

He narrowed his eyes. This was preposterous. “You forget that I ruled for four years.”

“And you are obviously forgetting that you did so as an _act_ , pretending to be someone else.”

“I know what works.” Loki insisted staunchly.

“It might work elsewhere but not _here_. We do not have the advantage of size supplementing our whims. You should, in theory, understand this. Just as you should understand that you are not the ruler any longer, _I_ am. You seem to have correctly guessed that I will not _harm_ you for it, but I _can_ take away your power if you continue this miniature tyranny.”

“You’re threatening to demote me? Is that where we’re going, Thor?”

“This, Loki, is _precisely_ the problem.” Oh, so Thor used a _fancy word_. ‘ _Precisely’_. What did he want from Loki, a gold star? Congrats, you’ve expanded your dictionary, amazing Thor, amazing. “Instead of taking responsibility you’re over here challenging me. Again. I know I have used it in different contexts before, but when I tell you _know your place_ , I mean _know it_. Act like a _Prince_. I don’t know if that planet brought out an entirely new side to you, or whether you’ve been like this all along, but you _cannot_ continue on like this in front of people.” Was that _contempt_? Was Thor daring to hold things against him now?

“Let me _guess_ ,” Loki said sourly, “You spent all this time planning this with Heimdall, laughing over us.”

“Not _laughing_ , being concerned.” Thor snapped, finally losing patience with him. It had taken him long enough, apparently the tea had had some effect. Norns dammit Heimdall, you _wanted_ to give him a chance to sound logical and clever. ( _Loki you_ bastard _, you’re just jealous that Thor can speak to you without you moving the strings_.) “You want to threaten? Fine! Do it where nobody knows you, do it in a landscape where it serves a political purpose, do it where no one can touch you. Do _not_ attack our people, no matter how much they try to get a raise out of you, or how _annoying_ you deem them. I know you can be civil, I know you can deal with people without turning it into a game of power play, and I expect you at the very least to not _repeat_ this public spectacle.” The glare he sent Loki sent cold jolts down his spine. This air of disappointment and rapprochement was an exact blend of their parents’: the stern judgement of the Crown and the one that said _I know you can do better than this._ In this moment Loki shrank away from the echo of his mother. ( _Thor is the only one who is actually her blood. You could never measure up to him because of that simple truth. You will always be inferior_.)

Thor had a point. Thor had a well-founded point based on Loki’s behaviour. He had to actually consider what he was being told. Using threats to achieve means in such a small population size simply wasn’t sustainable if he wanted to keep public opinion on his side. His brother didn’t mean this in that way, but Loki could see where his own interests were being damaged by his actions. Loki had once woken up with the very wise expression ‘when you see the flaws in your own argument, do not pursue it further – think on your position’ floating about his head as a stray piece of advice. Loki thought it prudent to listen to it, at least this once. He felt like a scolded child. He was, in many ways, exactly that. His eyes slid away.

“I understand what you are saying, Thor. I… shall undertake a different course of action if I am ever faced with this predicament again.” And that should have been the end of it. It wasn’t.

“Thor, you’ve made very nice points and all, but you _do_ know that your brother is five hundred years younger than you, right?” Val chose to say her piece, which wasn’t what Loki in her position would have done. It was better to keep these things small so that they wouldn’t blow. “You were acting like a child all the way up to… like last week. You literally changed your entire outlook on life and ruling in the span of a _day_. After already being an adult for at least six centuries. Is telling off your brother for something you couldn’t change in yourself until now, five hundred years older than he is, the best course of action?” Yes, he was a child compared to her, wasn’t he. He wished she’d kept her mouth shut. He hadn’t needed another reminder of his own inadequacy in everything. He saw Thor’s jaw twitch.

“That was a personal flaw, allowed to fester by my father, not an excuse for Loki to continue to do the same. I am well aware that this is to do with age, which is why I said I would remove power if Loki couldn’t do it, not force him to act like someone he isn’t. The fact remains that it is a bad idea to let him stay in power the way he is now.” How much of this had Thor gone over with Heimdall? Loki couldn’t believe this was all him, because Thor didn’t act like this. ( _Or maybe you’re just falling behind. Isn’t that what they’re talking about? You being too young, too inexperienced, too unsuited for your title_ -)

“You should know that I hardly appreciate being spoken over like that.”

“There is nothing preventing you from speaking should you so wish, Loki.” Heimdall said. “If there was, you would have known.” Naturally, _he_ was silent, having thought of this from the beginning. At least it’d made Loki realise the damage of his own policies. Heimdall had likely chosen to intervene now rather than later to save face, and now Loki couldn’t argue that this was based purely on hypotheticals. He’d provided the evidence against himself less than half an hour prior. Apart from the threat hanging over _his_ head, this would be helpful in the long run.

“Well in _that_ case, I have something to say:” Loki placed his hands on the table and half-rose out of his seat. “Why should _Thor_ get a free pass for all those years and I don’t? Why do _I_ have to face being removed from my position aboard this vessel whilst my brother was allowed to keep everything and still act like a buffoon? Why does this have to be posed as an ultimatum?”

Thor had an answer, and it was heated. At least Loki still got to him. “The reason for this is that Father is dead, which means I, Thor, am in charge, and I do not, unlike what you seemed to think back when I was exiled, have to continue to do anything _he_ did during _his_ reign. The time of Odin Borson is over, and so is the comfortable existence we’ve been living. This is, and you’ve admitted you understand – unless you were _lying_ to me – what is currently the best course of action for me to take and you _will_ abide by what I say. You will be allowed to have your title, but if you are incapable of exercising your influence in a proper manner you _will_ lose most of your power.” Well that did nothing but say ‘I am King and you do what I say’, but wasn’t that what an absolute monarchy was anyway?

“And of the work I do?”

“I see no reason to alter that. Your inability to handle power would not interfere with your ability to handle paperwork.”

“So I get the same workload and reduced influence.” Loki sunk back into his seat. “Do I have to move out of this chair too?”

“You do not _have_ to do anything, I am telling what the two routes we can go down are. You are free to make your choice.”

“And if I choose to leave?” Loki challenged.

“Then that would be a disappointing reveal of character.” Norns, Thor was good at this. Perhaps he’d spent too much time listening to Captain America. Loki wondered what would happen to him if he was forced to live with Captain America. Steve. He could have laughed about that for days. What sort of name was _Steve_?

Loki exhaled slowly and looked at the opposite wall. “And how long do I have to change this… behaviour of mine?”

“This is not a deadline-based order, as long as you act like you know you should you get to keep your power, as soon as you let yourself slip you get demoted and I shall make it known that crossing you no longer bears the same weight it did before.” He didn’t like this. “Any _further_ questions?”

“Is this unconditional?” He couldn’t afford the humiliation of a mistake.

“I will judge each circumstance as it comes; I will not give you the opportunity to complain of unfair treatment. I am not willing to suffer a headache for weeks on end.”

“Is that all I am to you? A _headache_?”

“No, but you are the cause of a damn lot of them! Now are we done, or are we going to keep quipping back, acting like we’re superior in every way?”

Loki bit the inside of his cheek, hard. “We are most certainly done.”

“Good. Keep your own council and decide what it will be.” Thor ceased looking at him, finally allowing some of that tight uncomfortable heat of humiliation to lessen. “Now, I believe we have other things to talk about.” Loki let it go. This was pointless; it was obvious Thor had decided upon this. He had other topics to waste thoughts on.

“Do you two get heated about everything?”

“Val, the topic is closed.” Thor’s voice was hard. Loki was surprised he could muster that tone when talking to her.

“Yes but-“

“The answer is ‘yes, usually’. Now I wish this conversation to _end_ so we can get several things in order before we can _officially_ start the day.”

“Go ahead.” Loki mumbled. Nobody commented on his attitude. Just as well.

“Firstly, I want to hold one of these every morning. Val, you don’t have to come, but if you choose to stay and be a part of my council I expect you here every morning.”

“Good choice of time, that.”

“So we can count you in?”

“Well I’ve hardly got anything else to occupy myself with. I might as well give myself things to drown out.” Wasn’t that _encouraging enthusiasm_?

“We also have to consider repairs on the ship, as well as setting up official sub-organisations to help manage the people.”

“I could manage that, Your Majesty.”

“What do I do then?” Heimdall had stolen maybe the one thing Loki was good for.

“You’re a competent adult, figure it out Lackey.”

“I was not asking _you_.”

“However I _do_ second Val, if you are at such a loss, you can take care of the linen and occupy the Hulk.”

“What? Do you want me to _die_?”

Thor frowned at him “He hasn’t killed you yet.” Not for a lack of _trying_.

“Still might.” Val pointed out brightly.

Loki sighed. “Thanks. I can see you’ll be a real joy at the funeral.”

“No one is dying.” Thor insisted. “If you’ve tolerated each other thus far, you can do it a day longer.”

“We’ve generally avoided each other thus far.”

Heimdall attempted to placate him. “Loki, whilst I do realise you have a past with the creature-“

Loki scoffed. “You could _call_ it a past-”

“Can somebody _please_ fill me in-“

“Smashed me into the floor during my invasion, incapacitating me.”

Val grinned. “Like he smashed Thor?”

“Yes but he did more damage-“

“Heimdall is trying to speak and you two are chattering away like _children_.” Thor interrupted. “If Val wants to know more, she can join you in the linen stores.”

“How do you even _know_ there’re linen stores?”

“Asgardians found them when the Hulk was storming off and opening doors left and right.” Thor didn’t seem to appreciate the conversation nearly as much as Loki felt he and Val were.

“I think I’ll skip the linen stores, I doubt people would want them with liquor stains.”

“Thank you for offering to be there to protect me.” Loki deadpanned. “I really appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome. Feel free to join me for drinks. But only the ones I don’t like.”

“I’ll need them.”

“Your Highness, despite what has passed between you, the Hulk has hardly tried to murder you on board this ship and I do not believe he’d do so unprovoked.”

“So I should just be my charming self and I’ll be fine?” Heimdall was unimpressed. “Alright, fine. You’re right, I’m wrong-“

“Loki, I trust that you’ll be safe as long as you stay as in control of yourself as you usually are.” _Trust_. For some reason hearing that word come out of Heimdall’s mouth made him believe that despite everything he was, on some level, able to do this. Heimdall had always encouraged him to test the limits, and it seemed that hadn’t changed, even if now the limit was seriously pushing his luck. Loki’d always liked gambles with Fate.

The rest of the morning council went by, as linear time was wont to do. The hour for the council was decided to be at nine – Loki had proposed eight in response but nobody except Val had laughed. He’d still seen the corner of Thor’s mouth twitch, and Heimdall’s golden gaze soften. It hadn’t lasted, but that was of no matter. When positions had been designated, their holders would be required to join the meeting at nine thirty, to allow matters to firstly have been discussed in private.

Tomorrow, they were going to take to the Bridge and plan out where they had to stop and when, once everything on board had been counted and documented on parchment (except whatever cheap slob had originally owned this place had only included paper so parchment had to be replaced), and they were going to finally begin to set up a proper medical centre once the flight plans had been taken care of. Val raised the issue about the hot water, and both she and Loki (but mostly him) were sorely disappointed by the fact that it was unlikely to be fixed anytime soon due to the professional that would require.

Loki felt the unease helplessness raised in him grow as they talked. He’d never liked depending on others for mercy, but now that was all they had. He also didn’t like the idea of having his influence removed. What would happen to him if he slipped and he fell from grace once again? He needed this modicum of power. Why did others always meddle?

\-------------------------------------

“Loki, if you’d stay behind for a moment.” He halted, obeying the command despite the spike of unease that went through him. Val shot him a sympathetic glance before leaving, door closing with a finality behind her. Loki turned back towards his brother, a grin that was nothing but unpleasant on his face.

“What? So you’re _not_ done ripping into me? What _more_ do the two of us have to talk about? Are you going to _demand_ I give up-”

“Loki, please don’t be like this.” Thor sounded tired. “If-”

“If you hold your power over me as a threat, wouldn’t you be doing the same thing as I was?” Loki took a seat as far away as possible, on the far end of the table.

“The difference being that I own that power whilst you have been granted _usage_ of it. However,” Thor sighed, “I thought I made it clear that that conversation is over.”

“If that conversation is over,” Loki asked acidly, “Then why am I here?”

“Come closer to me, would you?” Thor gestured at the seat Loki’d occupied less than a minute ago. “I need to talk to you.”

“I believe I am disinclined to.”

“Alright, have it your way.” Thor contradicted himself immediately by sitting directly opposite Loki, something that made his skin prickle. “Loki, listen, I’m concerned about you.”

Loki rolled his eyes, turning his head so he wouldn’t have to look directly at his brother. “Yes, I noticed. You were so concerned as to make a big deal over-“

“If power means anything to you you won’t be finishing that sentence Loki.” The low warning coming from Thor like that felt wrong.

“So you _are_ going to be tyrannical about this.”

“Not tyrannical, just- Loki, how am I meant to get you to _do_ anything? You speak in threats so I know you understand threats, simply _talking_ doesn’t work because you just dismiss everything I say with a sneer, it is the _only way_ that I can see working on you.”

“Because you want me obedient.” He said sullenly. It was what everybody wanted. It was what none of them were going to get.

“Because I don’t want you in danger!” Thor shouted, making Loki jump. He’d overplayed his hand. The air in the room actively frizzed, charges all around feeding the growing feeling of unrest. “You _know_ you stir up hatred for whatever reason wherever you go and _somebody_ needs to moderate it before it blows up on you! I’m not telling you what to wear, what to eat, who to talk to, we’re trying to prevent disaster because if anything happens _you_ will be the victim!”

Loki knew his eyes burned with an intensity that matched Thor’s. “I know that.”

“So what is this? A calculated risk? A game you play on weekdays? Loki, I understand you not _liking_ everything you get told to do, but you seem adverse to _any_ suggestion that is not your own. Why can’t you ever accept anybody telling you what to do?” _Because last time that happened I ended up in New York trying to take over a world I didn’t want_. (After all this time that’s weak.)

“I don’t like being controlled.”

Thor sighed deeply and prolongedly, the side effect that Loki liked most being the decrease of electricity in the room. “Yes brother, I can tell. I can tell rather well.”

It was pointless to continue this any further. Loki forced his own hackles down.

“So if you wanted me in here but not to talk about this topic, what _do_ you want to discuss, that you were so _worried_ about?”

Thor sighed. “Do you know what happened last night?”

This had nothing whatsoever to do with what they’d been doing. “You got drunk and I hauled you to your bed and left you with what I thought was a helpful substance. Was it not?”

“That part was exactly what you thought it was, unless you had been trying to poison me. I meant _after_.”

“I know I coded some cards – is this about unauthorised access? Because if you held me back to talk about-“

“Do you remember nothing else?” Thor demanded sharply, leaning forward. What was there to remember?

Loki strained his mind, cursing the effects of drinking, looking back through the blur that had been his conscious mind and coming up with nothing. He thought he saw a flash of metal, but then it fell to the floor and shattered and the recollection, if it was that, was gone. Everything about his brother’s manner, suddenly anxious, pointed to this not being a good thing. The unease was infectious.

“What is this? What have I done?” There was a cold feeling spreading through his chest.

“You were opening the airlocks about to throw yourself into space. Heimdall found you and told me of the incident this morning. I saw where you had been. There is no doubt in my mind that if he’d been just a few minutes later you’d be dead.”

He was frozen over. This wasn’t what he had been expecting. A drunken suicide attempt? There _had_ to be a logical explanation of this, something to rationalise it, he couldn’t be this unstable, and he couldn’t let Thor know it-

“The airlocks – why?” His voice was a strangled exhale. His mouth felt dry.

“That’s what I’m trying to ask you! Loki, what, in the Nine, possessed you? Why-“

“I don’t know, that’s why I’m asking _you_!” It burst out like a strained howl. “Why was I there? I shouldn’t have been, I don’t- I don’t _do_ these things when I’m drunk. I need to be aware, I need to be thinking- this is exactly why I _like_ drinking-“ He was desperate – this couldn’t be, and his insides were squeezing together making it hard to breathe. “It isn’t _supposed_ to be like this-“

“What do you mean you _need to be aware_?” Thor’s eye was wide, face gone white. It brought Loki crashing down to reality. He slid back down in his seat, not sure when he’d gotten up.

He shook his head, feeling the wind rush through his hair, forcing himself to sit still and his voice not to tremble. It didn’t disobey him, as it did was required of it once again in his crooked service. “Suicide isn’t driven into my depths of consciousness, whatever you feared I was intending, last night’s actions were not driven by a desire for the loss of my life by my own hand.” No indeed, he had to drive himself up to do it and then anybody trying to stop him would have a horribly difficult time of doing so.

Thor did not seem incredibly comforted by this information. But he was wise enough to seize on what Loki was giving him and let go of the rest. “You are certain of this?” He demanded. Loki nodded, feeling his heartbeat slowly fall back under control.

“I swear on-“

“Swearing on another being is not necessary. I will take my brother’s word for it, and if he is a liar then that would be on his own head.”

Loki smiled, finding this idea of Thor’s rather amusing, and seeing the danger of being properly confronted sink. “So despite everything you’ve threatened, you are still willing to trust me on this, a matter of great emotional value?”

Thor’s eye was sad. “I am willing to trust you on a lot of matters, and if you prove me right in doing so I shall continue to.” He didn’t know how much Loki was hiding from him, that was what made this so sad and pitiful and deeply ironic. When the wall fell down and all the deceits rushed out, the betrayal on Thor’s face might break Loki’s own heart, if it still beat in his chest.

“So what would you suggest I do to keep everything this way?”

“I am no master at publicity and you know this, Loki. If you truly are interested in this, and have no idea of how to fix yourself, speak to Heimdall. He has many years on us both, and has seen more than any.”

Loki inclined his head. “I will think on this.” In truth, Heimdall was a resource he hadn’t exploited yet, and it would be useful to do so. Having been advised by Thor to speak to him, it would raise no kingly eyebrows if Loki were to spend prolonged periods of time with Heimdall, needling him for information. He’d used to do it all the time, when he was younger, but as soon as he’d been granted more and more independence, he’d done all he could to escape Asgard, and that had included the Gatekeeper. It stung, a little, to have lost all the closeness they’d once had but the past could not be changed. Only the future could be moulded.

He was startled by Thor’s touch on his hand. Looking up, he met his brother’s blue eye. It wasn’t clear as a summer sky, but as close as Thor could get, for Loki knew that he had greatly worried him.

“You are not set against me for thinking what I did?”

“No,” Loki shook his head. It had, after all, been his first thought as well. “With my history, it is always prudent to think the worst and rejoice when it is not so.” A history that was more extensive than Thor could even begin to think of.

“I am glad, truly.”

“I would not believe the man opposite me is Thor Odinson had you expressed any other emotion, brother.”

Thor smiled and it was real. “Do we have a chance, Loki? Truly?” He stood as he spoke, and Loki followed suit, wanting to retch as he smiled back and reassured his brother.

“I do not see why we should not succeed in reaching the destination you have set for us. And once we’re there, that will rely on who we brought with us.” He despised himself when he saw Thor relax at the words, and wished to tear open his veins when Thor pulled him against his side and crushed him in a hug.

“So this is it?” Loki murmured, a weak smile forming as Thor glanced at his face, pulling back and leaving a loose arm around his shoulders. “I finally get my behaviour checked and you end up being the one to do it?”

“I don’t believe either of us could have predicted it, but it does seem to have been the outcome of today.” Thor agreed. He seemed to enjoy this pause, uncomfortable as the ground of it was.

“Did you wake up thinking this? That today would be the day you try and see what the creature you call your brother truly is?”

“I have never, in my wildest rages considered you a _creature_ by virtue of where you come from, brother.” Thor, if anything, sounded almost resigned to Loki’s terms. He sat himself down on the edge of the table, and he, ensnared, had no choice but to follow suit.

Loki laughed. “And apart from that it is debatable? Perhaps after I’d bitten you?”

“Then it becomes more truth, that is if you don’t follow it up with a stabbing. If you think any of this was what I was planning to do today, you’d be wrong.”

“Well I always knew Heimdall was involved. You couldn’t plot this on your own.”

Thor smiled; an expression that brightened up the dark corners of his mind. “In that case I can surprise you – the person who gave us the idea was Toralf.”

Loki felt his eyes widen. “How did _that_ happen?” He’d barely given the man a second glance once he’d gotten working.

“He mentioned how cold you were and we escalated from there.”

He scowled, entire countenance glowering, a show for Thor’s benefit. “So I have _him_ to thank for these new restrictions.” In truth, he couldn’t be angry. Toralf couldn’t have known.

Thor evidently sensed Loki’s radiated intent of murder. “You can thank _me_ , and not one person more.”

He grinned, showing off the fangs he had just turned his canine teeth into. “Trying to protect innocents from your brother’s jaws?”

Thor’s hand found his hair. “Loki, you know those make you look like a feral wolf. Do you really need to shapeshift into something even more untameable?” After allowing the hand to linger for several seconds, Loki shook his brother off and straightened.

“You don’t like them?”

Thor sighed and looked away. “I believe that whatever I say will not affect your choice.”

“That is correct. So what is it?”

“They make you look like an animal, which is uncannily fitting on you, and I cannot decide what to make of this conclusively.”

“They say that the blood always comes out eventually, no matter how tamely you raise a tiger to be your pet.” Loki cautioned, voice low, wanting to draw out more of this, for some masochistic reason he was not the master of.

“Good thing you are my brother and not a pet, isn’t it Loki?” _To you I am sure it would seem that way_.

“Naturally.”

Shifting in his brother’s loose grip, Loki twisted slightly to create a space between them. Despite the reasons presented to him, something still didn’t sit right with the approach Thor had taken. “Thor, if I may.”

His brother looked up, confused. “If you may what?”

“Ask an innocent question.”

“Go ahead.”

“How much of this is you doing what you feel needs to be done for the good of Asgard and how much of it is your insecurity in your position?” He asked quietly. Thor tightened his grip.

“I cannot answer that Loki.”

He nodded in response, what he needed already absorbed. So he was being seen as a threat, and a substantial enough one at that to be placed in a position where he had to compromise his strategies. That was good to know. If it had solely been for Asgard, Thor wouldn’t have hidden the reason from him. He could, in a way, understand Thor completely. He had never liked sharing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So next week (hopefully) we have Loki doing laundry with the Hulk. I sure hope he doesn't die, because this is supposed to be cannon compliant, and he is my favourite character by far.
> 
> Thank you for reading :)


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The number of beings aboard the ship remain constant; the amount of brainpower drastically increases. Loki had hoped it would be slightly more in his favour - then again, when did anything turn out as he thought it would?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please read the End Notes for some changes regarding this work. 
> 
> I recently posted a short oneshot which I consider to be cannon for this work, [right here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25772395), and I would be honoured if you would check it out. It is not crucial, or incredibly relevant, just a snapshot into the past.
> 
> As for anything else, enjoy the chapter!

Being barricaded inside a linen store wasn’t Loki’s idea of fun. It happened to be the Hulk’s.

Ever since the beast had stomped in, feet leaving sizeable dents in the cast metal floor, it had been an unceasing amount of grumbles, the first of which came out as ‘Stupid Thor bossing Hulk ’round” and which had circulated through every aspect of the same two topics of being told what to do and Thor. It was disagreeably similar to what Loki himself had been thinking before the sliding door had been shoved open, and thinking of himself as being on the same brainwaves as the Hulk left Loki distinctly affronted.

He had slunk next to a wall at the coming of Hulk, and would have been quite content to remain there, if the Hulk hadn’t called him out on it. Once the beast had noticed that Loki was cowering, it would have been cowardly to remain there – not that Loki was against cowardice when providence told him it would be helpful.

Instead, he had watched the Hulk drag several containers across the floor and shove them towards the door, piling up at least half a dozen and ending with a “Good. No more Thor come in Hulk’s room.”

It would have been… challenging for even Loki to get out. The way the Hulk had made sure part of the ship’s framework prevented the crates from being shoved back, and the fact that they had clearly been designed with such a ship in mind as their home, meant that they stacked well and firmly. Even if he managed to get past the crates, the door was closed. Thor had quite possibly killed him.

“So why Puny God need Hulk here?” The beast was done trapping them, and was now looking expectantly at Loki. He fought back against the fear that rose in his chest under the direct scrutiny and managed to swallow before answering.

“We have been told to sort out linen.” Loki told him, matter-of-factly. The Hulk frowned.

“Hulk doesn’t see the point of this.”

_I’m here to babysit you._ Naturally, he couldn’t tell the Hulk that. “It’s so that we can furnish the lower cabins, which do not come with their own sheets, unlike the ones on the upper portion of the ship.”

“Why we _furnish_ lower cabins?” The Hulk appeared to not have come in contact with that word before.

“So that people can sleep on something other than the floor. If you find a room that you like, you can have one.”

“Only one?” The Hulk sounded both disappointed and displeased. “With Grandmaster Hulk had many rooms.”

“If there is leftover space, you can have it all.” Loki promised. “But this ship is small, so we cannot promise anything.”

“Then Puny God took wrong ship.”

“This was the _biggest_ and _bestest_ ship there was.”

“Puny God sure?”

“Very.”

“Humph.” The creature turned away. “What Hulk and Puny God do now?”

Still very wary of this whole situation he’d found himself in, Loki edged away from his wall and moved to a rafter upon which were a number of smaller crates. If he had to guess, the ones the Hulk had piled up contained mattresses, if there was any sort of bed furnishing in there at all. “We sort out sheets into piles for rooms. I’ve got a list you can look at… You can read, right?” The addition briefing he’d been given by Kaysa – who had taken on the role of headwoman of supplies for the time being – had been useful, despite the fact that everybody assumed that he had never touched a bedsheet before. (He had, and a great many at that.)

Eryka had gotten to her mother before Loki, ‘the child was practically bounding with enthusiasm’ as she’d phrased it, appearing very happy with the information, and so he was now in possession of a personal Aide that was allowed to do anything unless it involved the Hulk, who was rightfully categorised as a ‘hazard’. So here he was, alone.

The massive green face twisted. “No.”

“No?” Well… he couldn’t be that surprised. At least he’d given him the benefit of the doubt. Loki was counting that… as a good trait and not plain stupidity. “In that case I could tell you-“

“No. Puny God not command Hulk. Hulk _smash_ Puny God.” The last sentence was a few decibels short of a roar. The hair on the back of Loki’s neck was well and fully risen.

“I- I think you misunderstand. I will also be doing the work, so it will be more of us working together-“

“Puny God will slack off!”

“I will not!”

“Puny God liar.”

“Not _everything_ I say is a _lie_ , otherwise I won’t be able to trick people. If I don’t help, then you’ll notice, wouldn’t you?”

“Puny God have magic. Thor say so.” That, was a very good point. It was, in fact, such a good point that Loki thought he absolutely _had_ to make use of it and so into the air went a spell that was intended to calm spooked horses, hoping that the Hulk wouldn’t immediately sense its presence. It was obvious that the Hulk had no intent to do anything useful. If he was going to be a difficult baby, then Loki was going to match his behaviour and pray that his connection to Thor would help him. He leaned against a crate, scrutinising the monster from a distance.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were _lazy_.”

“Hulk no lazy!”

“Oh yes he is, and now _I_ am going to do work and _you_ will seem like a _baby_ if anyone comes in.” Loki deliberately turned his back, ignoring the tightness in his abdomen, muscles coiling tight and anxiety pooling deep in his core.

He reached for the highest crate he could get to. Pulling it down, he used an iron dagger as a crowbar to unlatch the lid correctly and slid it off, finding sheet after sheet of white linen layered inside it. It seemed like they were going to have to fold them as well as separate them for different rooms. Pushing back a sigh, he pulled out the first one. It seemed like that was the last straw for the Hulk, who had thankfully forgotten that nobody _could_ come in.

“NOOOOOOO! No, Puny God not allowed to do better than Hulk, Hulk better, Hulk no _baby_!”

“Then you can get busy folding these.” Loki put down the sheet he’d folded on a surface he’d scoured free of dust with a wave of energy, and pulled a crate down, tossing it at the Hulk before starting on folding the next one.

Watching the Hulk struggle to fold bedsheets from the corner of his eye was rather amusing, until the Hulk stuck out his lower lip in a pout and showed Loki the crumpled heap. “Hulk hate this!”

“Does Hulk want to be shown how to fold bedsheets properly?”

After it became apparent that nobody else could answer for him, a sulkily mumbled “Yes.” went through the air. And now Loki had gotten himself into teaching a green science experiment gone wrong how to fold large white spreads of cloth.

He picked up on it surprisingly quickly, and feeling a small, definitely _very_ tiny amount of pride glow in his chest, Loki left him to it, observing how he worked with childlike concentration, completely absorbed in his task, which was very worthy of a housemaid but not the Prince Loki was. Why was _he_ in charge of occupying Thor’s _‘friend from work’_? Thor wasn’t even getting paid. The Avengers was a charity function.

Later, he could never say quite what did it, however from one moment to the next Loki’s tense thoughts were interrupted by sudden movement to his right. His first instinct, which he obeyed without question, was to spring back and summon a pair of long daggers. A moment later when rational thought kicked in, he saw what was actually happening.

He had seen the Hulk transform back into Banner only once, after his defeat in New York, among the damage in the skyscraper. It hadn’t seemed like a pleasant experience, and had been followed by a lot of fussing from his new teammates. As bitter and tired and hurting and relieved and pissed off Loki had been at the time, he had, in his heart of hearts, been glad to see it. The beast had been strong, and it’d seemed the bonds between his brother and his ‘heroes’ might grow to be too. So far Loki hadn’t been disappointed by the Avengers. Mighty vengeance might be had through them, if they had continued growing and fighting with the same spirit that had stood up to him years earlier during his absence from Midgard – even if their hard-won victory had been intended by the small glimmer of Loki that had realised what was happening to him.

This time was no less discomforting to watch. Letting his limbs flow back into motion from the ice they had turned into, Loki swept a sheet from his crate and strode closer. The Hulk was fighting back, and Thor had mentioned that Banner had feared he could never come back from his monstrous other half. He was lucky, Loki mused, that only one side of him was a monster. No matter what way Loki looked at himself, he always saw his beast lurking within, simply painted over, like the fresco in the Throne Room. Thor had begun seeing it too. It had only been a matter of time before he would’ve seen the manipulative demon his brother had always been.

The Hulk was fighting back, and the Hulk was losing. The will found a way to overpower the brute strength. Loki liked such wins; they gave him the evidence he needed that his way worked. It might even be called hope, if hope felt like a tiny light glowing in a dark place. Banner was now distinctly what the being in front of him was, and Loki hastened to throw the linen over him, trusting that he’d done this enough times to instinctively know what to do with it.

He wasn’t disappointed, and Banner drew the material tightly about himself. Loki withdrew a safe distance away whilst the man regained his bearings, shivering and no doubt wondering where the Hel he was _now_.

“Wha..?” The scientist’s voice sounded somewhat faint, as if he were talking to himself rather than Loki. “Where am I?” He seemed to realise the presence of another being with him, and half-turning, espied Loki.

Loki smiled. “Hi.”

Banner started and stepped back. What? Had he thought Loki was a creation of his mind? (How often do you think that’s happened? You try your best to traumatise your enemies. Do the Avengers wake up with the same cold sweat you do?) “What- what am I doing in a room with _you_?”

Loki’s smile became slightly more strained. “Is that any way to greet one of your hosts?”

“Hosts? What…” Banner looked around, dragging the sheet closer around himself. “Did you _trap_ us in here?”

“Actually, the delightful green monster that was here in your place a moment ago did. If you wish I could get us out of here?”

“Wish… _you_ … get _us_ out…” A pause. “Why should I have to believe anything you say?” Banner demanded, looking no less threatened.

“You do not _need_ to believe anything, I simply offered to free us. Bestow upon us our liberty. Move crates whilst you stay out of the way. Etcetera.”

Loki’s noble intentions apparently did not sway Banner, who looked slightly sick and was already swaying. “Where’s Thor?” He demanded. “If I am among friends-“

“Who said anything about friends?” Loki’s smile turned sharp. Banner faltered.

“Are you trying to say-“

“Yes, yes, my brother is here too and so is the Valkyrie and so are your other half’s gladiator adversaries. Do you wish to reunite-”

“Slow down!” Banner brought his hands up to his head, cradling it. “Stop it, I’ve just come back, and you’re here spurting random information at me, and none of this is helping- How long?” His gaze shot up to meet Loki’s. “How long was I out? Don’t tell me it was another two years-“

“Four days. Your being has been the Hulk for four days.”

Banner squinted at him. “Only? Then what am I doing here? This isn’t that party ship, and we’re in a room full of…linen – how certain are you that this isn’t an evil plot of yours, from one to ten?”

“Which end is which, Dr Banner?”

“Nevermind, just _please_ answer my questions-“

“The Hulk was assigned to the spectacular duty of folding up bedsheets, and I conveniently happened to be the designated babysitter.”

“You. The babysitter of the Hulk.”

Loki shrugged. “I did insist that it was a poorly conceived idea-“

“Thank _God_ you had the good sense to create an atmosphere that allowed me to break through.”

“What about thanking this god right here?”

“Loki, you literally tried to invade and rule _New York_. With an alien army. This is the bare minimum of what you owe us.”

“The bare minimum of what I _owe you_?” Loki couldn’t keep the insult out of his tone. “You have no idea of the monumental favour I have bled to gift you on a silver platter and yet-“

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, but if you call hundreds dead a _favour_ , I suggest you pick up an Earth dictionary.” There was a bite to Banner’s usually soft tone that suggested that they had not, in fact, made any progress on Midgard. He had hoped Thor had neglected to mention something, but it seemed like despite his travels his brother hadn’t discovered anything to convey to his mortal friends.

“I suppose my favour is not evident yet, then.” He replied sourly.

“I will visit your prison cell to inform you when it is.”

“Oh, so it’s a prison cell for me, is it?”

“Where else?” It seemed like an honest question. Loki neglected to answer it, busying himself with folding sheets whilst Banner stared after him. “Because if you think you’ll end up anywhere but a high security prison when- _if_ we get to Earth, you must be deluding yourself.”

“My brother will not permit it.” He insisted staunchly.

“You’re brothers again?”

“Evidently.”

“I don’t understand how you think it’s okay to change things only when it suits you.”

“And would the idea that I might be doing anything for _Thor_ be so adverse to your mind as to be inconceivable?”

“No, I don’t think you understand. You mean a lot to Thor and in the time I’ve lived in the Tower with him he’s been going on and on about how great you used to be, and I’ve had enough of hearing great stories where you’ve helped slay dragons or some other beast-“

“I’ve never killed a dragon.” Loki cut in, voice ice.

“It doesn’t _matter_ whether or not you’ve killed a dragon, the _point_ is that you keep messing with him, pretending to be good, or pretending to help, and he falls for it when _anyone_ can see you’ll betray him again in an instant as soon as it suits you.”

Anger and conviction flared up as one. He threw the sheet to the side. “I will _not_ betray my brother.” _Liar. Who are you trying to fool? Actions don’t care about a soul’s allegiance._

“You are wasting your lies on the wrong person, Loki, I won’t believe it. You might be acting good now, but I don’t believe it will stay that way for long.”

“Then keep your perceptions to yourself.” He snapped. “I do not need yet another person against me.”

“If you hurt Thor you will regret it.” The scientist’s low voice, warning despite the physical weakness, left no doubt in Loki that he meant it. It was amazing how Thor managed to inspire such fierce protective loyalty without the use of power. Or perhaps it _was_ the power, that elemental strength that everybody felt running through him.

“I will not.” _You will. This is all leading up to your ultimate betrayal. And you have the gall to smile and pretend you’re anything but the serpent underneath the flower._

“What you will is find yourself face to face with the Hulk if you even set about doing it.”

“Are you threatening me?” He was naming this the day of threats.

Banner, having been given the decision to back out, chose not to take it. Despite his growing annoyance and the anger creeping up, Loki admired him for it. Adversaries were no good if they caved like a house of cards at a single huff of wind. “You know very well that I am. I might not be capable of hurting people but the Hulk has no scruples, _especially_ when it comes to you.”

“You are threatening war.”

“With only two people? Last time I checked, Loki, it took armies. You brought one from outer space.”

“It will be a very personal war, Doctor Banner.” Loki tilted his head, voice light and at the same time so wonderfully dark. There was a detectable tremor in the scientist’s voice.

“Then it will be a very personal dismembering that rips you apart, too. The Hulk enjoys doing those tremendously, he likes the sound of flesh ripping away and how the bodies shudder and go limp as they lose too much blood to keep conscious. I should know – he’s inside of me. And I could let him free at any moment; I have better control of myself than most think.”

_What was this man playing at?_ Loki stood as he had been when the doctor had begun speaking, straight and rigid, unable to move. He _remembered_ the raw strength in the arms of the being that had grabbed him like a ragdoll and had broken concrete – _concrete_ – using his body. He remembered the agonies of shattered ribs and pierced organs accompanied by the return of his mind – or what was left of it. The last dark mass of the blackout curtain had fallen; where before Loki had seen only glimpses, slow holes burning through a material that was near inflammable, letting in rays of light that were too little for him to grab proper hold of. They’d only allowed for small influences in his actions, small details of a plan which if failing would be only the basis of harsh punishment, now he was blinded, and free. Blessedly severed. And in such terrible pain he could barely breathe.

Despite his liberation, it was the terror of that dreadful ease with which he’d been destroyed, with which his body had been reduced to broken parts, that had lingered intertwined with his memory of the Hulk. He had no doubts the Hulk could do exactly what Banner threatened. He had no doubts he would enjoy it. It made him feel sick. He already knew too well that feeling of flesh tearing. He knew that he was pale, and he knew that those little tremors he felt in the world were made by his own suppressed shaking. He still didn’t think he could move.

Banner turned his back. “Get us out of here, Loki.” He said with a sigh that did not match their conversation. Huffing, and a very real fear set into his heart, Loki set to undoing the work of the Hulk.

His fingers were numb. His breathing came and went and he felt no more solid than a wisp. He didn’t know what he’d expected with the coming of the doctor. Perhaps a sign that things were going to get better, the coming of someone with experience onto the scene, somebody he could work with to _fix_ things.

A child’s dream.

\----------------------------------------

“So, um, let me get this straight:” Banner spoke to Thor, even though he continued sending Loki wary looks, as if he thought Loki was in any state to attack him. “We’re _actually_ on a ship, in outer space, and we are going to Earth.”

“Yes, that’s about it.” Banner took a few moments to absorb, nodding a specific nod Loki’d seen before in scientist members of different species. It was as of yet something that could not be comprehended by biologists. Who all nodded along as they agreed that it was uncanny.

They were in Thor’s room, the scientist still wrapped in the linen sheet, Loki standing to the side, a dark presence through the delight Thor had been in upon and since seeing him. Loki and Banner hadn’t spoken to each other again. He suspected the scientist was somewhat ashamed by what he’d said. And he, well _he_ was still thawing out from whatever state he’d been put into.

Finding some time to think, Loki thought that now that the Hulk was no longer a threat – was a part of him actually missing his presence? – he had no reason to allow Heimdall to continue spying on him. The fact that he’d told Thor about last night meant that he was untrustworthy, and now more than ever Loki loathed the idea of being monitored, whatever good intentions there were. He couldn’t afford to be seen if a moment of weakness overtook him. Loki wasn’t terribly confident in his definition of a ‘moment of weakness’ however that wasn’t going to stop him from maintaining his privacy.

Closing his eyes briefly, he called his power to him and cast the working, energy wrapping itself around him in waves until he was invisible even to the golden gaze of the watcher. It left him briefly lightheaded, and the knowledge that this would be a constant drain on his resources was not a comforting one, but one that had to be risked, no matter what. He loathed that he’d been reduced to thinking like this. _This_ was a tiny spell, and he was feeling the _drain_. Feeling the drain when he hadn’t used his magic for anything else much today and had had a night’s sleep. Pathetic. Absolutely disgusting.

“And, uh, what is the ship called?” That was not the question Thor had been expecting. Loki, snapped back into the present, wasn’t too surprised, mainly on the basis that people tended to focus on small things to try and swallow down the whole. Loki had never been able to get behind that – what was the point of evading when reality was there all the same?

Thor looked at Loki for help.

“ _The Statesman_.” He supplied, voice sounding lighter than usual to himself. If anybody noticed, they did not comment. “Quite unintelligent and witless if I do say so myself.”

“Yeah, it is, isn’t it.” Banner rubbed at his forehead. “How about we call it the _Ark_ instead? Like, you know, Noah’s Ark, where all the last humans and animals… no?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Thor said bluntly.

“I do.” Said Loki. They both turned to look at him – it was hard to tell who was more surprised. He shrugged. “I found myself forced to study the Christian holy text which goes by the name of _The Bible_ cover to cover in order convincingly prove I wasn’t a witch in pre-revolutionary France.” He neglected to mention that he had been masquerading as a French Noblewoman as he enjoyed the bizarrity of the statement on its own. “I was also required to do Catholic mass, if anybody aboard this vessel happens to be interested and wishes to practice. It has been a while, but I am confident I will recall the words and practices in due time.”

The scientist was looking at him and slowly shaking his head. “No thank you, really no thank you.” Loki could tell there were cogs whirling in his head. Was this giving Loki as a person more or less credibility? It certainly gave him a history with the planet he’d invaded that couldn’t have been guessed before.

Loki shrugged. “As you will. I am not overly attached to the religion.” Well, over any other that was. Loki did not consider acknowledging the existence of the Norns a religion, as their existence was a fact, and therefore not subject to blind faith. Religion meanwhile… now that was an interesting topic.

If Loki wasn’t privy to several beings that existed in the larger universe, he supposed it would have been interesting to believe in a God. That was, since he preferred to spell the type of being he was with a small g, unless referring to his official designations, in which case upper case was used. In either case, if there _was_ a God somewhere outside this universe (according to his understanding of said God, one could not be God and live in this universe, or really be alive at all. Perhaps ‘Exist’ would have been a better word to use. A consciousness, all powerful, all knowing, and apparently all loving however much that last part escaped him) that God did not like Loki very much. Or at least, wanted Loki to suffer for love? Loki shook his head. The cowardly part of him wished the mortals had continued worshiping _him_. That made everything a lot less scary and a lot less threatening.

Thor looked like he was about to ask a question, then seemingly reconsidered. Loki could guess what it would be about – how long had Loki been going on Midgard without anybody’s knowledge of him doing so? The answer was, in clearest terms, a while. The mortals had never lasted long. Perhaps it was similar to how the Grandmaster had thought of him, just a small ditch of a landmark in a massive, torturously prolonged existence.

“So, um, what do I do now? Does anyone have any clothes, or?”

“Loki does.” Thor said quickly before Loki could weasel himself out of this one; giving clothes to your friend was one thing, giving them to the human side of the Hulk was another one entirely.

“I don’t think he’d be happy sharing-“

“Nobody else has any clothes. Nobody.”

“Now Thor, leave the man alone. If he so wishes to wear a toga, he may do so and I shall be glad to leave him well alone.”

“You know how togas work?”

“I know how many things work. My question to you is, are you a fan of a Hellenistic or Roman style, and I will need the century.” Loki had no idea what the differences were and he hoped nobody amongst them was secretly a fashion historian. Knowing Thor, it was unlikely but if true he had set himself up for shame.

“Do you have any clothes that will fit me?” Asked Banner instead, slightly plaintive by this point.

“Any clothes you desire to fit you can be forced to do so.”

Before Banner could reply, Thor decided to be helpful as well. “You can have a room all to yourself.”

Loki scoffed. “It wasn’t like you were going to force him to _share_ , brother.”

“I’m okay with sharing, I know you guys must have space issues, and I don’t want to be much of a problem-“

“Nonsense! You are my shield-brother and will be treated as such, Bruce. And there are plenty of rooms here. I think.” Thor looked to him. “We have enough space, right-“

“We have sufficient space to house him separately, I’ve documented all the figures and have shown them to you. Recall the lists presented during the meeting two days prior?”

“Just checking, Loki.” Thor had narrowed his eye in his direction, undoubtedly noting all the unnecessarily contrived words.

He sighed, barely resisting rolling his eyes. “I suppose it is wise to always make sure your facts are on point.”

Then Thor remembered that he had somewhere to be. At Loki’s questioning look – Thor hadn’t mentioned anything he was doing today during the morning meeting – he was told that there in fact had been several people coming forth as mechanics or similarly trained and skilled. So he was left alone with Banner once again.

This time, Loki couldn’t care less what was thought of what he had and was more than happy to part with some clothing he’d had from the 70s. At Banner’s face he couldn’t help a tiny smile that vanished as soon as Banner glanced up at him. He felt benevolent enough, despite the threats – or perhaps because of them – to provide a t-shirt or three he didn’t have an explanation for. Staring at them, rather puzzled, Loki thought he must have shown up to Midgard drunk at some point or other. Either way, he wouldn’t be caught dead in a t-shirt that wasn’t black or green unlike these, and actually upon consideration wouldn’t be caught in a t-shirt, period. Sleeves were too short and marks on pale skin were too easily visible.

Loki could tell that the doctor was thinking. Loki could also tell the effects his words had on people – he knew Banner was revisiting what Loki had told him of that favour. A favour which he hoped hadn’t been wasted.

“Listen, Loki, I _am_ sorry for how I threatened you earlier. You have actually been helping here and I think that at least needs to be acknowledged. You mentioned war… I don’t want there to be a _war_ between us.” Which was understandable. Possibly he didn’t want to deal with guilt after Loki’d been dismembered.

“Before your appearance I had hoped the same, Doctor Banner.” He replied stiffly.

“Does that… mean anything?”

“You want to ask for peace; you will get it. Do not expect anything else – you have made your opinion of me far too clear. Now if you will excuse me, I have places to be.” Without waiting for a reply, Loki left the room. The Hulk was conveniently out of the picture, and he had an Aide to send for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the people who keep up with this might have noticed that this has only updated after three weeks and what you get is a rather short chapter in comparison with what you've been getting lately. It is also not a Thursday. So:  
>   
> \- Thursday will no longer be considered upload day. That will likely remain undefined, however weekends are more likely.  
>   
> \- I cannot update this as regularly as I updated in the beginning. Updates will NOT stop. They WILL slow. The reasons are numerous, mostly the fact that real life is coming again and I will be busy. Another key factor in this is that... I am unsatisfied with what my writing process has turned into and this is more of a drag than it needs to be. I am also losing the big picture, trying to churn out consecutive chapters and that is harming the story. So I will be taking time to structure this story better.  
>   
> \- What does the above mean in terms of what is on Ao3? I am aiming to get out at least a chapter a month. This might seem too little, but I have to have a buffer in case I get too busy and cannot write. I'm doing this for you in the hopes you will always get a chapter a month. That doesn't mean I won't check Ao3. So, if you are reading this at any point, don't worry, I will still see and reply to comments :) I am not gone, just working on Word instead of posting immediately after chapter completion.  
>   
> \- If I seem to have gone ages without updating and you are wondering whether this is abandoned - unless it is written in the summary and in the tags this is not abandoned. If it is, I will notify you, because I am not overly cruel. I hope. You can judge after the later chapters of this.
> 
> That might have seemed dire, but I write it with good spirits. As always, feel free to tell me what you thought <3


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scars hide wounds that ought to be long healed. In this case, perhaps not as healed as Loki'd hoped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bet you thought I wouldn't make the end of September! Ha! I did it! (If you believed in me thank you :)
> 
> I have decided that using capital letters for titles is jarring and so will no longer be doing that. I will one day change that everywhere but that is not now. I'm too busy to bother with that, just pretend they've been changed in the previous chapters.
> 
> This chapter is one I immensely enjoyed writing, and possibly one of the hardest to edit. Hope you enjoy!

Being re-assigned from bedsheets was the bare minimum of what Loki expected as reward for having gotten rid of the Hulk, and got the bare minimum he did. Several loitering and bored youths were asked to do the task instead, and judging by the sudden smiles and arms being enthusiastically grabbed – their owners dragged along by friends or acquaintances – it was a welcome change to wallowing in grief and utter uselessness.

In another universe Loki would have been considered the same; just another tally in a dangerously limited list. In this one, he was forced into a different role. But he liked the power it gave him, despite the warnings, and the eyes. Imagine being so insignificant as to being sent to seriously do _laundry_. Instead, he was alone in yet another large cargo hold crammed full of crates, awaiting the results of his spell-crafted summons; he’d always loved conjuring winged forms to deliver messages for him. This time it’d been a mockingbird of green flame that had flown off into the ship’s depths.

One minute he was standing, absently checking over empty lists and manifests Kaysa had made for planning and rationing reasons, the next Loki’s vision had winked out.

When his brain switched back on he was curled tight on the floor of the storeroom, biting down hard on his lower lip to prevent even a whimper from slipping out.

His consciousness was being set on fire. It was of course, a familiar feeling. It appeared his respite was over, and the scar – or perhaps it classified as an internal wound – wanted revenge for being so long denied the pleasure of tormenting him. Whatever had been holding it at bay was gone.

Tears were leaking down his face, pooling on the floor, and if Loki was trying to see he would have laid eyes on nothing but gray blurs, surrounding him, choking him. His breathing came fast and hard and he could taste the tang of blood at the back of his throat as something within his chest _spasmed_ and if he wasn’t clenching his jaw so hard he would’ve been screaming and he could feel blood trickling down from his mouth but he couldn’t care because his _heart_ -

He felt like it could give out any minute. He didn’t know if how hard it was pumping was good or bad. Was blood collecting within him, was it being forced through, was he in danger of dying _now_ , body already unused to the pain? He didn’t want to die. _He didn’t want to die._ (He didn’t want to leave Thor, he didn’t want to draw his last breath, he didn’t want it to end _here_.)

He couldn’t move his aching muscles, could only curl tighter together, painful sobs contributing to the mess of pulsing muscles and organs in his chest – _were they even in their right places, had the blade pierced something vital all those years ago?_ His lungs, screaming for attention, forced him to heave in gasping irregular inhales of air which did nothing good for his lip, world fluctuating between dark and light as streaks of colour flashed through his mind, disorientating him and Loki was so glad he’d renewed the wards preventing Heimdall from seeing him, so glad he couldn’t be _seen_. He couldn’t afford to be seen like _this_ , couldn’t have anyone knowing how _wrong_ something within him was.

He could feel his interior convulsing. He could feel it. He could feel the strain in tissue of muscle being stretched and pushed and pulled and he couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, could barely think, could do nothing but wait it out. He wanted it to end, he wanted it to stop, he wanted to be able to breathe again, he wanted-

A dreading fear spiked through his heart, a piercing needle striking home each and every time the mounting dread of this being too much for him threatened to overwhelm his mind as his chest pulled tighter and tighter before releasing, before it began again. Anew. A cycle of agony. There were small parts of him that weren’t contorted in it, and they focused on keeping him distracted from the waves of molten heat that passed right through him from chest to back – as though there was a massive hole in his centre through which acid was being poured. They couldn’t withstand this assault much longer, _he_ couldn’t take much more of this-

This was supposed to be _quick_ , why wasn’t it ending, why wasn’t it stopping? Loki didn’t know how long the fit had gone on, only that every muscle he had was cramping, the ground had drained away any heat he had had, he was shaking uncontrollably, his lip had long since been bitten through and his teeth met through the flesh, and that the biting pain there was nothing compared to the hole in his chest and oh, he so wished _someone_ would come and _hold_ him so he wouldn’t have to struggle through this _alone_. _Anyone_.

He couldn’t draw in breath. Loki tried to force air through, but his lungs were out of his control. His ribs ached. He couldn’t get the air he needed. Light-headedness went from bad to worse. The world went muted. The pain flared brighter. _He was dying_. All of him was certain now. There was no way out of this. Why couldn’t _Val_ or _Thor be here_ -

As suddenly as it had come, it was gone.

Loki didn’t think he could move. He didn’t want to. He couldn’t feel his lip, apart from a dull throbbing where his teeth were sunk in. A few beats of lying still and he tentatively moved a shaking hand to his mouth and gently held the mangled flesh down whilst he slid his teeth out. It would be a pain to fix and to clean his face up. It could wait.

…Could it? Loki didn’t know how long he’d been gone. The last thing he needed was Thor finding him here. There was little in terms of weaponry in the room, but Thor could easily mistake this for the effects of a drug or poison. Anybody could. Nobody knew about the wound apart from Thor, and even telling Thor about it was a bad idea. Loki could just picture it: bed rest, being forced to stay in his room, no alcohol, no exertions, nothing getting done, just useless, useless, _useless_. No, that would not do. If Thor thought that Loki had lied all his way to the throne he was content to let him continue to believe so. After all, Thor would be horrified to learn he’d left _Loki_ still alive and suffering rather than an illusion.

His thoughts were interrupted by the door opening. He’d collapsed behind some crates, but was nevertheless close enough to the entrance that anybody coming in and moving several metres straight into the room would be able to see him lying there, vulnerable and shaking and bloody.

Shoving back the uncertainties and the doubts, Loki pushed himself up roughly, ignoring his trembling muscles, and stood, swaying for a moment but silent, perfectly silent. Touching a hand briefly to his face, he moved backwards, cursing the bright lighting of the room. Why couldn’t Korg have insisted upon energy saving instead of _democracy_?

Footsteps came forwards, uncertain but not turning back. _There’s nobody here, turn around. There’s nobody here, turn back and walk out. Walk out and leave until I stop shaking and can be seen_.

The Norns weren’t listening. Or perhaps they just didn’t give a damn what Loki wanted.

“Oh Norns, your highness, what-“ Eryka’s eyes, filled with a certain brand of horror, flew open at the sight of him, her hands flying to her mouth as she started to a halt.

_“Be quiet.”_ Loki hissed, taking a step forward before freezing and just as quickly taking a step back.

“But you’re-“

“I said silence. Are you alone?” His eyes flickered to the entrance he couldn’t see. He hadn’t heard anybody else come near. That didn’t mean much when you were fresh out of a fit. Eryka was still staring at him, and perhaps reconsidering her life choices. Loki, if he were feeling more confident in her loyalty, would have gladly smirked in her face as a direct reaction to her expression, her eyebrows forced so high it was beyond comical.

“Ye- yes. Should I call… someone?”

Loki cut off the idea with a sharp swipe of his hand. She hadn’t started screaming, she hadn’t run out. He could work with this, make sure this stayed hushed down. “No, this is perfectly fine.” He had to think.

“But you’re bleeding-“

_“I know.”_ Was she going to ask what had happened, was Loki going to be forced to-

“But your highness-“

“Drop the ‘your highness’, will you?” He snapped. “If we’re going to be living on this ship together, you might as well call me by my _name_. Or ‘Prince’, if you’re absolutely _dying_ to be politically correct.” That perhaps came out sharper than it ought to have done. The girl recoiled back for a moment, caught off guard at the chastening, and Loki realized what a truly pretty picture he must paint, blood pouring down his chin, pale as death and shaking uncontrollably.

Eryka swallowed, avoiding looking directly at him. “Do you need help?”

Loki turned away. “I’m fine.” Leaning his forehead against the wall of crates to ease the throbbing in his head, he touched his lip once more. “It’s only a small flesh wound.”

“But there’s so much blood-“

Loki threw his head back and laughed, harsh and mocking. “Girl, where have you been the last week? Have you not seen your share of real wounds?” He turned to her, grinning. “Is this truly enough to worry you? My, what a warrior _you’ll_ make.”

Defences came up. “Warriors only _inflict_ wounds and I thought you would be teaching me _magic_ -“

“The two go hand in hand, child.” Oh, but he did like having someone to talk down to. This had been a _fantastic_ idea. “Discipline, movement, the practical use of your power all come from a warrior’s training. You can choose different weapons, different techniques, but it all comes down to the ability to cause pain.”

“But do _I_ have to be a warrior?” Questions for the sake of questions. Loki did not know why she bothered. He shrugged and turned away.

“In law, nobody would force you. You are female besides, and you do not exactly see many women fighting here. But most of us mages end up turning to the fight at one point or another. And those involved with battle see nasty things. As I said, with that reaction to a little blood you’ll make a pathetic combatant.”

“I was just worried about you!”

“Very noble of you.”

Eryka hesitated, tucking a lock out of her face. “I cannot tell if you are mocking me.” It fell right back.

“Then you should probably leave it that way.” Loki replied with a tight smile, prompting his companion to frown.

“Doesn’t that hurt?”

“A sacrifice I’m willing to make.” Loki fingered the wound, ignoring the firing pain receptors as his thumb passed clean through bloody flesh. “Do you want to see healing magic at work or should I fix this alone?”

“Wounds can be _fixed?_ ”

“Oh yes, and those a lot more grievous that this. Have you _never_ encountered any sort of magic user before?”

“I grew up on a farm.”

“That would explain it.” A pause. “Have you ever been to a town?”

“Of course!” Now she sounded affronted. “What sort of person _hasn’t_ -“

“I’ve met a lot of people who’ve never been to a more populated settlement than their homes.”

Eryka stared at him for a few seconds, evidently trying to puzzle out what sort of Asgardian would never leave their home, but shook her head. “I’ll watch.”

“Well you cannot hope to see much from over there.”

“With your height I don’t think I can hope to see much anyway.”

Loki took to the floor, back against a crate. He’d already been on it, so he thought spending more time in the filth wouldn’t do much harm. As it was, it wasn’t _that_ filthy, compared to some of the corners he’d found himself backed up in on Sakaar. It did not escape his notice that Eryka hesitated before she too lowered herself onto it, kneeling carefully as to not crease her skirt, leaning forward. He’d have to seriously bring up the subject of more clothes; resources might have to be found but it was imperative to prevent complaints which he was sure should’ve already began trickling in. How badly scarred was Asgard, really? Looking back, he ought to have taken care to assess the situation in this light with more than a fleeting thought. Instead he slept and drank and got into pointless discussions with the Valkyrie. But there was no point dwelling. It wasn’t like he could get the time back. Get anything he’d lost back.

Summoning a trickle of energy, Loki let it flow to the raw edges of the wound, willing the cells to regenerate and form a solid surface once again. The terrible itching as his body was forced into premature cycles of division and replication was something he never _could_ quite grow accustomed to, and he set his jaw in an effort not to bite at the closing tear. Green light sparked and lit up his skin, which could have been passed off for a helpful visual representation of where the energy was concentrated if it wasn’t so horribly _involuntary_.

It only took a few seconds, and, waving a hand, Loki got rid of the blood, sending it flaking away into dryness and dust. A light pressure in his chest remained the only residue of the wound, the magic used to heal it weighing upon his system. If it wasn’t such a bad thing, Loki would have sighed. As it was, he couldn’t let there be any notice that anything was wrong with him now – Only be dramatic when you can afford to highlight a weakness.

Before, he’d only gotten headaches as a tribute to the energy that was leaking out of him. Now, whatever spell had been placed upon him to protect him from the effects of the wound – _why had the Grandmaster done that?_ Loki would have thought he’d’ve enjoyed presenting himself as a comfort, just another little mind game to ensnare him – was gone, apparently either worn off or broken. This was nothing good; his magic was weak enough as it was and this was going to be a danger wearing down on him. Something told him he wouldn’t be able to manage a feat such as the ship-mending or the massive healing session again. At least the Celestial’s magic was no longer working on him.

This wasn’t supposed to be happening _now_. Loki had been _sure_ he’d been getting better; his energy hadn’t been so horribly sapped by magic before Sakaar, the fits… well, the fits had never stopped, but Loki couldn’t remember any with comparable intensity except the first ones he’d suffered – suffered and forgotten until the next. _What was happening to him?_

Eryka sat back on her heels. “And that’s that? The wound is just gone? Poof?”

Loki had to grin at her, pushing anxieties out of his mind. “It has been _repaired_. Not just gone.”

“Could anybody do it?”

“If they could control themselves, perhaps.”

“How?” His spirit livened up a little at the questions – how often had anybody stayed on the topic on magic once they’d seen a trick or a display of power?

“When we get to seeing about your powers, you can have the pleasure of witnessing the Valkyrie stab me.” For educational purposes, Loki was sure he could rile her up sufficiently.

His Aide’s face fell. “Wait, you don’t need to-“

“She’ll stab me at some point anyway. Might as well have it planned.”

“You don’t care?” Her expression was a mixture of bewilderment and distinctly impressed.

“Why should I?” Loki stood and dusted off his clothes, offering a hand up to Eryka. “I have no other way to put my energy to use.” That was strictly a lie.

“I meant the pain.”

He pulled her up.

“I don’t care much for it.”

“Will it not faze you?” _Faze_. A word that had little practical significance in his life. Many things ‘fazed’ him – if he froze at every one, then he would fully deserve death when he got it.

“At one point, pain becomes insignificant in the grand scheme of things, Eryka. It only matters as much as you allow it to. Do not let it become your master.”

Eryka frowned, considering his wisdom, too late learned. “What happens if I do?”

“You can never truly enjoy life again.” He remarked briskly, summoning his lists from the floor. “After all, time only flows one way.”

_And you cannot afford to be overtaken by it, little god._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! How was the chapter? One of the shorter instalments of this, but hopefully not disappointing. Thank you for sticking with me this far, feel free to drop me a comment :)
> 
> I have either all, or most, of October's chapter done, see you then - and don't worry, I always read my comments as they come, you won't be forgotten! :)


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A rollercoaster of events, compiled into one long chapter. From mazes to irritating ships and also turtles, Loki has one Hel of an afternoon. His only question is: Why _me?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's the end of November, but this still counts as October's chapter. I am not cheating you out of deserved chapters.
> 
> Thank you for all of your wonderful comments! I know I haven't gotten to replying to every single one of them but I seriously underestimated my workload when I picked my subjects. Like, _seriously_. It's not easy switching from Maths, Chemistry and Physics to writing semi-decent literature, and I cannot get too distracted lest my grades suffer. They really make my day, and I read them as soon as I get them; it's so nice knowing people actually enjoy this work as much as I enjoy writing it - if not more!
> 
> But never fear, here are about 10k words to keep you occupied! It's split into lots of little pieces, hopefully you can take it in bite-sized chunks if you're feeling busy today, or whenever you are reading this.
> 
> Enjoy!

He worked well with his chosen helper. They got through the crates in section A and half of B before lunch hit. Loki could have gone longer without food, (a lot longer. A year without and he’d still been able to stand with only an aching discomfort and a distant memory of not feeling this empty. It hadn’t mattered. Not then.) however he thought that Eryka would benefit from regular three day meals and so a brief rendezvous was made.

[The letters named are equivalents, naturally. English is not spoken in any place other than Earth, unless Peter Quill is there. Loki is not aware of the existence of Peter Quill however, and even if he was it would not be terribly relevant as this was written in Common. More information can be found at the end of the chapter.]

Val wasn’t in sight, Thor was, and Loki was soon introduced to Drimsr Orwenson, a mechanic who had taken on the mighty task of heading the reconstruction of the pathways over the sealed Hela-hole. Smiling, Loki couldn’t help but feel a pinching anxiety – what if they were truly stuck for resources? They did have large volumes of metal on board, however as far as they had gone through them, they were cheap and easily found. Nothing they could get a high price for.

The mechanic was accompanied by his wife, a white haired cheerful woman who called him ‘Drimy’, and a grandson whose name Loki didn’t catch. No other family was mentioned – no rewards for figuring what had happened. The food was better than the morning’s; Banner didn’t make an appearance – he was sleeping, Thor said. Loki shrugged until he was notified that he was going to be taking him on a tour around the ship. Loki pointed out that he had no idea what _actually_ was on this thing, so instead he got assigned to exploring the ship after dinner. Why did nobody else get these jobs? What was Heimdall doing? Heimdall was going to be exploring with him. Heimdall was currently working with Toralf on clearance and access codes. Right. Loki was allowed to go everywhere as long as it was not an airlock. Loki was not going to follow that. Loki’d better follow that unless he wished to be chained to a wall.

…Loki was still not going to follow that, but less vocally and a lot more privately inside the safety of his mind.

A question followed, directed at Thor by his awed Aide. Did his eye hurt? The answer was: Not as much, anymore. A look was answered by the shake of a head. No, his magic was not wanted. Well what was the damn point of having it then? _I’ll be fine_. Alright, suit yourself you thick-skulled- Thor said he was going to do that just fine too. Loki instructed him to start taking advantage of others. The concept was found foreign.

Typical.

\-----------------------------------------------

Opening crate after crate and noting down contents, Loki made a point to observe that Eryka was stronger than he would have expected someone of her slight build to be. Having her back turned on him also left room for observation, of which he did a fair share. In his defence, there wasn’t an awful lot of colour in this room.

The following things were observed: she had a lock of hair that kept falling in her face and that was eventually left there after the forty-fifth misbegotten attempt to tuck it back failed, her eyes were a particular shade of hazel which had just hints of a jadish green, and her blond hair would look very nice all braided up and piled into an elaborate hairstyle. Her colour was definitely red, a deep blood red. Loki thought that if she proved herself worthy of his guidance in magic (If she had any choice in the matter, that was,) he might gift her a ruby stone to complement her dress. Though that would have to be replaced too – it was a simple style and rather worn. If he was allowed, he would have a field day. Perhaps he could take her shopping along with Val as a present – would that be a good idea? Val was sure to bring trouble, if his very presence did not make that a given.

He wasn’t the only one looking. Loki studiously avoided the awkward situation of having their eyes meet, unwilling to be asked questions about anything unrelated to their work. And he could tell Eryka was thinking of something very unrelated to what they were doing. Eventually, she couldn’t hold it in anymore.

“Your High- _Loki_ , what…were you doing earlier? When I found you?”

“Thank you, I was in desperate need of clarification.” The one question she hadn’t asked yet. It cut through his agreeable mood and threatened to replace it with irritation. “It isn’t something that would concern you.” If he acted as stiff as possible, hopefully she would get the impression that it was something serious and cease pressing him. Her next question caught him off guard.

“Did anybody come after you?”

“Hm?”

“For being a… you know. Different. A Frost Giant.” A nasty feeling was settling in his chest. If she suspected this out of all things, it must be on the forefront of more minds than he was at ease with. If there was something going on amongst the tongues of the people, he had to know.

“Do you truly think so little of your fellow Asgardians?”

“They hate you.” He was told bluntly. “Some of them. But they’re not going to say it to your face. Not after what happened to Alfid.” There was a note of reproach in that voice, and as someone who wasn’t used to him at his worse end of the behavioural spectrum, he couldn’t hold it against her.

“There are people out there openly discussing the concept of brutalising me?”

“I overheard a conversation I oughtn’t have. In a side room. I think they were drunk. I’m aware of your… history but I… wasn’t expecting that to be something said aboard this ship.” She sounded troubled and immediately Loki decided that he couldn’t let this be a worry for someone who shouldn’t hold any concern for him, at any level.

“I am surprised it has happened so soon. I was hoping for at least a week.”

“Hoping for at least a _week_?”

“Before public opinion started turning against me in such a way, yes. If it is any comfort to you, I doubt anybody here on this ship would even consider hurting an Asgardian. Your association with me should not cost you much.”

“But what about you?” Upset set a light sheen in her eyes. “What if something happens?” _And why do you care? It’s not like you’re family._

“Nothing that I can’t easily recover from, if anybody does corner me.” Loki smiled, a forced expression, but he had become a master at making those look genuine. “I know Thor is spectacular, but that doesn’t mean I cannot handle myself adequately.”

“You shouldn’t have to.” Eryka bit the inside of her mouth, no less unhappy, even if his comment about Thor made her cheeks redden. “Why do people say things like that?”

“Because beating something up is a nice change of mood compared to the knowledge that you’ve lost your home and the people you care about forever.”

“Some _one_.”

“Slip of the tongue, unimportant.”

She didn’t look in the slightest convinced. Clever girl.

Loki bit the inside of his cheek before leaning against the crates. “Eryka, I know that the feelings after overhearing something like that are unpleasant, but it truly is routine. I know that they must have threatened some rather violent action against me, but such things rarely come to fruition, even if by chance they are remembered after the drinking.”

“They said they would love to-“

“If it involves the r-word I do not want to hear the rest of that sentence.” Too much of it on Sakaar. At least the drugs had been sufficiently diverting to make sure he hadn’t been paying attention most of the time.

Eryka looked at him as if he’d spouted a second head. “They wanted to see you drop the illusion.” A part of him flinched.

“Did they say how they were going to achieve that?”

“Not exactly. But they said lots of pain would do it.”

“Well unluckily for them it won’t.”

“Aren’t illusions held by concentration?”

“They are, but this,” Loki spread his arms, “Isn’t an illusion. I’m a shapeshifter. It would take…” _The change brought cool relief for a fraction of a second. Then he felt like he had been doused in gasoline and set on fire_. “A prolonged period of exposure to unfavourable conditions towards my current form before I… _revert_ to my natural state of being. Unless nobody notices my absence during that time, I would consider myself safe from such attempts.”

“Has it ever happened?”

“Not that I recall in the Nine Realms.”

Eryka looked up at him, absorbing his closed-off expression and thankfully getting the wrong idea. “Are you going to be alright?”

A corner of his mouth lifted upward. “Of course.”

\----------------------------------------

“We have absolutely nothing useful in Cargo Hold 8, put together the crates themselves are worth more than the contents, which I would price at just about less than thirteen thousand credits.” Loki fumed at the rapidly moving floor beneath him, before forcing himself to continue. “In short, I would try to repurpose them here, rather than lose what could turn out to be valuable in repairwork.”

“And what would the metal in question itself be?” His companion asked amiably. Just _once_ Loki would have liked to hear some sort of adjoining tone coming from him, rather than yet more _calm words_. Where was the support for his terrible mood?

“You should know that perfectly well Heimdall. I don’t doubt you spend your days simply _waiting_ for a slip-up.”

Heimdall sent him a withering glare. “Contrary to your own beliefs on the matter, I do not find you nearly as intriguing as to spend my time watching your every move, Loki.”

Loki opened his mouth to retort something sharp, then slowly broke out into a rueful smile. “I suppose I deserved that.”

“Do I ever treat you in a way which you do not deserve?”

“Considering everything, I would be hard pressed to find you at fault for anything, Heimdall. You’re a _saint_.”

“I would not go as far as that, Your Highness.” A wistfulness fell about him which gave Loki pause. What lay in this man’s past?

“ _You_ wouldn’t. It what makes you one.”

“According to the customs of the mortals, only those that have died are eligible for sainthood. As former French nobility, Prince Loki, you disappoint me.”

A blur of years resounded at the back of his mind, stronger than before. “Please tell me you haven’t told Thor about that.”

“I have not breathed a word.” Heimdall promised with a sparkle in his golden eye.

“You’re as tricky as the Light Elves, Heimdall, you cannot _possibly_ expect me to hear that and be reassured. If anything, I am now more concerned than ever.”

“I have not conveyed any part of your dabble into Midgardian society, to either of your parents, or your brother.” Came the answer that had a lot less room for insurgence. Loki went back to the original conversation topic.

“It is an alloy of iron, similar to ducol but with a higher elasticity. Extremely cheap and common enough to be near expendable in most places.”

“I do not envy the poor mechanic his task of becoming an engineer.”

Loki laughed. “At least for once I cannot be blamed.” A moment of silence followed.

“No, you cannot be.”

“Does this stupid device even work?” Loki showed the small screen he’d nicked from the bridge to Heimdall. “It appears more lost than me.”

“And are you lost?”

_Yes._ More lost than you can ever know. “Three corridors away from the main hall? Please.”

Heimdall narrowed his eyes. “The pathways appear to be precisely where there shouldn’t be pathways.”

Loki looked at the screen again. Heimdall once more saw what others could not. Finally, the proof of existence he’d been looking for. “It’s the walls. The walls have hidden pathways.” He slid the displayed image over to the canteen. The opening he’d found, coming to a dead end as it reached the main ship living space. “Somebody, whoever owned this place, must have neglected to switch the menus on this. They were nearly perfectly hidden, otherwise. If it hadn’t been for that panel-”

“You already knew of this?”

“And you _didn’t_? You must have noticed me staying behind that first morning-“

“Loki, I was _preoccupied_. There is a _reason_ I stayed in an observatory hanging over the edge of Asgard.”

Loki blanked. “You cannot see everything I do?”

“I can see everything happening in the Nine, simultaneously. I do not have the luxury of having everything focused for me. Once, I may have had the opportunity, but I neglected the proper use of my ability.”

“You cannot see what I’m doing unless you focus on me?”

Heimdall sighed. “Yes, Loki. And you are lucky that I saw you before you had the chance to drunkenly kill yourself.”

“…I suppose the universe loves keeping me alive just to make me suffer.”

“Would what is waiting for you here be so much worse than what is waiting for you in death?”

Loki pursed his lips, not wanting to acknowledge that Heimdall might be right – what may Hela do to him that was worse than the Titan? At least him he knew, Hela… she was a stranger to him. A stranger raised by the same man, which did nothing to help her case. Loki knew he was capable of as much cruelty as he was mostly because it was by Odin he had been raised; he had driven him to it almost as much as Loki’s nature had been inclined to the practices to begin with.

“At least you’re not pretending I can get into Valhalla.”

“I think we both know you would never, given the choice, choose it for yourself, my prince.”

_Would he?_ No. Valhalla was for the deserving. Loki didn’t deserve the peace of a thoughtless afterlife with those whose deaths he’d caused, one way or another. Nor would- nor _could_ he force any of the sacred halls to receive a Frost Giant. The very idea of tainting their walls shamed him. His mother would be there. He would never be able to face her. And he would never be able to try and walk through, knowing that he might be denied. Denied seeing her face, hearing her voice, feeling her touch, her quiet strength, her magic. Denied the comforts he’d always known. Down was safer – at least there he would never be rejected. Down there, for loss, agony, or sorrow, he was welcome.

“But you cannot believe I’d ever be _worthy_ , surely?”

“I am not one of the Norns, Loki, to be able to answer your questions.” The knowledge of what Heimdall was refusing to voice cut him worse than any material blade.

“You think I’m worthy.”

“It is our actions that define our worth, my prince. Not where we come from.”

“My actions are not ones that any man could be proud of, Watcher.” _Not to mention the wasteland of my birth._

“Perhaps not yet. But you are capable of more than you give your nature credit for. It would be perilously unwise for you to follow the paths which have been set out by those who came before you.”

“I was never intending to be the puppet king Odin raised me to be.”

“But you could be king.”

“Ruling a realm of monsters?” Loki laughed. “This time you go too far, Heimdall.” _(You have the key. You have the Casket. You could use it, free the monsters’ power, return them to their former strength, manipulate their weakness to suit your needs.)_

“Perhaps your people are not the monsters they seem.” The gentle suggestion was not what he wanted to hear.

“ _‘My’_ people are right here.” Loki snapped. “My loyalties are not divided.” _Right. And who are you loyal to again? Asgard – or yourself?_

_Leave me alone._

_I think not._

_Bastard._

_Are you?_

He didn’t know. He could be the lowest of mutts, born to a kitchen maid, or a fallen woman. Everyone knew that being born a king’s son meant nothing. He had plenty of cousins – or not-cousins – who could trace their lineage to great rulers and yet had been left to grow up hungry and unkempt – unlike Loki, they probably couldn’t be blamed for where they’d ended up. It was the queens that mattered. It always had been.

It was irrelevant now, anyways. Loki was unlikely to find himself in a situation where his birth mother – whatever Frost Giant wench had been unfortunate enough to have him – was of terrible relevance. What was relevant was the reality of the situation that was slowly dawning on him:

They had close to nothing. From what Loki could tell, the ship had barely any credits on the on-board systems – it had to have arrived on Sakaar extremely depleted of monetary value, though the reason was as of yet, and perhaps ever, beyond him. What he and Val had could hold for a while, but Loki was reluctant to allow his last means of independence to be spent – and he was certain Val felt the same way. He could sell what he owned – and if it came to it, Loki would – but that could mark him out as a future target, perhaps send pirates on their trail. And in these regions, Loki knew he had no friends among pirates. They had nowhere to return to, nowhere to go, and suddenly the floor was sweeping under him as for the first time, _Loki_ didn’t have a place to run. There was nowhere to hide, and here in this ship he was pinned like an insect on a cork board, just waiting to be found, just waiting for the Titan.

He was worried. Worse, dreadful understatement: he was ridden in crawling anxieties, that refused to melt down whence they had sprung from, and, just for a moment, he allowed himself the desperate fantasy that he was in the palace, making his way to his mother’s chambers, and soon he’d see her, and it’d all be alright because she was there-

He couldn’t have Frigga. But he had the next best thing. Loki took in a breath, knowing how little meaning the words had.

“Heimdall, tell me honestly: Are we going to be alright?”

The Watcher didn’t seem at all surprised at his question. “That would depend on your definition of the term, my prince. Asgard, as she is now, can certainly live on. But I believe you already knew that.”

“Things are never going to be the way they were before.” Everything he’d ever known was gone. So much, simply destroyed in a matter of seconds. What had taken years of bloodshed and strife to build, turned to ashes in less than a tiny fraction of that time. (All the beauty, all the history, all the knowledge.) _Rome wasn’t built in a day, but it burned in one._ All great empires fell. Loki felt a twinge of satisfaction that Odin had lost his. How unfortunate that he hadn’t lived to now, to fully witness his _failure_. It was funny how he understood Hela.

“Unfortunately there is no natural way to get back what was lost. Missteps in judgement have cost our people much.” Why hadn’t Heimdall advised Odin what to do? The Allfather had always looked to the Watcher for words of wisdom, had always heard his counsel in times of need.

Loki spared a glance at the grey corridors of the ship. “I’m not… certain _this_ is the Asgard I want my brother to rule.”

“He has the greatest chance out of all of Asgard’s kings to prove himself. Whatever happens, history will certainly remember him.”

“There is truth in what you say,” Loki admitted. “Nevertheless, what if it proves too great a challenge?”

“I thought doubting your brother as such was beyond you, Loki.”

“He’s brittle.” _No. Thor will see this through. Cease projecting. He has never been as weak as you._

“It is for yourself that I hold my gravest concerns.”

“And what do said concerns contain?” He asked tiredly, not bothering to hide the sidelong glance.

“A varied mixture of unfavourable outcomes. There is not one idea that plagues my mind Loki; there are many which cause me strife.”

“Am I the cause or victim of your forebodings?”

“Both and either. There are many pathways that can be taken, some within control and some beyond.”

“You used to give me straighter answers.”

“You used to ask simpler questions.”

“Where did it all go wrong, Heimdall?”

“Depends on what you would consider wrong and what right. In some perceptions, it is far too late.”

“If you mean my own-“

“I am not pointing fingers. If you recognise your own thoughts within my words, then that is your predicament, not mine. I cannot solve your problems for you, for I cannot involve myself in what is not for me to see.”

“You noticed I blocked your sight.” That was quick.

“It is not hard to when I seek Loki and do not find him aboard the ship, yet minutes later he shows up at the bridge fuming.”

“As I am well within my rights.”

“You are perhaps more worried than you ought to be.”

“And how worried _ought_ I to be?”

“It is simply unlike you to fret over such matters, my prince. If there is something else troubling you, perhaps now is the time to voice it.”

Loki smiled tightly. “There is nothing troubling me but the current circumstances. I would blame it on the newfound isolation we have found ourselves in that exorcises itself as paranoia. I am not, after all, well accustomed to living in space.” He could’ve kicked himself. He could’ve torn his veins out and dipped the wounds in acid. He felt like going to drown himself, preferably chained to the floor of a room filling slowly with water to prolong the experience.

He’d had a chance. He’d had one, and like a fool he hadn’t taken it. It could have been over in seconds. He wouldn’t have had to bear the burden alone any longer. He could have said the Titan’s name, and that would have been enough. He could have told Heimdall he had the Tesseract. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t have it taken away from him.

He could feel it, even shielded by his magic, prevented from calling out, seeking an answer from its glowing brothers and sisters. It fed him, the steady glow he couldn’t see but felt basking every molecule of his being. His soul sung, his heart beat faster, his mind spun, all of him helplessly intoxicated by the power he held. Sense prevented him from using it _(for how long)_ but sense couldn’t stop him from feeling the cool burn of it washing over his skin, couldn’t stop the tug that rooted him to the cube, couldn’t stop the tendrils of thought urging him to _use it_.

It had become a part of him. He couldn’t let it go, couldn’t hand it over, couldn’t bear parting with it. A soothing presence at the back of his mind, grounding him, guarding him, fuelling him, couldn’t be discarded. And Thor would be so furious. Loki was afraid of Thor’s anger, so Loki couldn’t tell.

He appeased himself with the thought that if he told of the Tesseract, it was forced away from him, then that would leave it open to detection. Nobody but him could shield it so well, nobody but him knew what its presence really meant, nobody in their right minds would allow him to keep it. It had to be this way, for the _people_. Really, was he a monster to let them know?

“You will not leave me alone, could you help it, right, Watcher?” He shifted the direction of the conversation. Had his words, or tone, betrayed anything, he needed to pull Heimdall’s attention away from it. Frame this as a fear of helplessness, loneliness, any reason but the truth. Let any answer comfort at least the parts of him that needed support, let some ground appear for his feet to drop onto.

“Sometimes what we need is what we want least. I am not in a hurry to abandon you, Loki.”

“Cease sounding so _wise_ , I wanted something solid, not _wisps_.” He snapped.

“Speaking of things solid, perhaps we should return to the map-“

“Why can’t you give me what I want?” Some desperation boiled over into pleading. “Just give me this, something to cling to.”

“What you want is a promise over something I cannot control. Remember your own philosophy Loki, and then tell me how I can swear to uphold what is up to Fate.”

He bit his lip, looking into the distance. “Somehow, before we lost Asgard, I never realised how dangerous the world was. Nothing has ever seemed so hostile, and it will all seem more hostile yet when we realise we have nothing to barter with, and everything to lose.” He could never say such things to Thor, and to go to the Valkyrie with his words would seem foolish, considering that he was certain she would laugh at him and tell him he’d just been hit by the real world _._

“We often don’t appreciate what we have until we lose it.” The golden eyes met his own. After a long moment, Loki broke off the contact.

“And oftentimes, it is our own blasted fault that everything has fallen apart to begin with.” He muttered under his breath, quiet enough that Heimdall didn’t have to come up with a response. If only he hadn’t been given the chance to do what he’d done. If only he’d been strong enough to stop it. If only his mind, his conscience, his will, weren’t so weak as to bend like a willow tree to whatever wind blew. If only he’d been allowed to die.

Loki turned his eyes to the map, forcing some enthusiasm to rekindle. If he focused for a moment, the excitement he’d first felt would return. (He would _make_ it.)

There was truly a labyrinth all around them, spanning up, down, and leading to every direction. If he looked far enough, he could spot rooms – secret hiding places – shafts, some leading to airlocks, others to different floors, endless turns and intersections of pathways; so much ground to cover, so many ways to entertain oneself, so much that could be revealed about this place if he took the risk and dove in.

“The passageways open here.” Loki followed the graphics to a section of wall. At first glance, it was smooth – one of the better hidden ones, then – but a moment later the way in flashed into his mind. The single stripe of decoration… wasn’t the way in I’m not a pleb. No, but it did have a small pattern looking suspiciously like an arrow etched between the other little designs of pointless swirls and geometric shapes. Loki followed it to the centre of the plate, left hand seeking a sign along the wall.

He felt it immediately, the empty space behind the wall suddenly vanishing, leaving a circular object slighter smaller than his palm in diameter hanging suspiciously on the other side: a heat sensor, because as Loki let his hand linger the slight vibration of moving machinery alerted him to the change in the wall. The hiss of hydraulics sounded, he stepped back, the wall swung open to reveal a stooping entrance. Loki glanced back, satisfied.

“Almost a pity I can cheat and open these without bothering to search for them, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Be careful what you wish for, my prince.”

“I wasn’t wishing for anything.” Loki eyed the dark square. “I’m going in.”

He ducked into the opening before Heimdall could counter.

\------------------------------------------

The air inside was completely still, dust particles barely moving even after Loki’s disturbance and the streaming light leaving them in sharp relief. There was no smell of note, which meant only one thing: There was nothing living here. The idea was somehow more chilling than the prospect of finding decay – what had really happened here? Moving inwards cautiously, Loki felt Heimdall join him in the tunnel.

“May I suggest that in future you _reconsider_ simply ducking into every cavernous space you see?”

“You may suggest, but _I_ make no promises.”

“Do we have to do this now?” He sounded like a tired parent. More specifically, Odin after Loki’d dragged him from his work to show him a picture in a children’s book.

“Imperative. Hold the map, I want to-”

A gust of wind swept through the tunnel. The door slammed shut, sensors reacting to the cold that tore through the clothes and skin, leaving chill seeping to the bones. They were in darkness.

A beat. Two. Coughing – his.

“Heimdall, can you make your eyes glow?”

“No.” Came the answer from the dark surrounding him.

“What a disappointment; I suppose I’ll have to do everything myself.” Light flared from his hands and lit up the corridor, leaving it bathed in green. “Norns.”

Air had streaked through the passageway, stirring up the layered dust and leaving behind… energy residue.

“This was no ordinary wind.” It was weak, not anything that could have been left behind by a person. But it was distinct, and that was no accident.

“Do you still wish to continue?”

“You bet. I’m not leaving now, and we’ve got a map; we know where we came from.”

“You may lead the way, Your Highness.” Heimdall passed back the screen. Loki still had the feeling that he was being humoured like a child, but if he got to explore this now, rather than continue travelling the ship corridor by corridor, he could have plenty of food for thought later.

Some twenty minutes, and Loki was quite comfortably deep in the web, several levels down from where they’d started and approaching the outer layers of the ship.

“This reminds me of the first time I explored the old amphithere caves at the foothills of the mountains back home.” He remarked cheerfully, strolling along.

Heimdall’s eyebrow lifted. “When you decided it would be a good idea to sulk in the bowels of a mountain and got lost for seven days?”

“I wasn’t sulking! And Thor deserved the trouble of having to find me; he insulted my chirruping.”

“Does that negate the slow starvation?”

“Do you have any idea what a good hoard I had in those caves? Being hungry once at the expense of that is more than a fine deal. It was pleasant whilst it lasted.”

“This would make an excellent storage space as well, wouldn’t you say?”

“It would be very nice of the last owners of this ship to have left us something in a secret room.” Loki agreed. “Still, I cannot shake the suspicion that there is something _wrong_ here.”

“There are certainly traces of hostile energy. I maintain my stance that we should not have come in here unprepared.”

_“You followed me.”_

“Leaving you alone would have been far worse.”

“What’s going to happen to me? There’s been nothing living here in ages-“

Something slammed into his hand. Loki let out a yell as he dropped the screen, his green lights going out.

Summoning a flickering flame, Heimdall glanced at him quizzically. “A mistake on your part?”

“No. Something pushed me.” Words really needed to be picked more carefully in casual conversations in dark corridors in massive ships.

“Are you certain you felt a push, or is it possible you’re falling victim to your imagination?”

“Heimdall, you _know_ I’m not clumsy, I’m telling you something made me drop it. It slammed into my hand; I couldn’t have kept a hold of the device if I’d wanted to.”

“Could it perhaps have been a pipe or vent sticking out from the walls?”

“It _moved_. There’s something in here aside from us, I know it.”

“Perhaps our welcome has expired.”

“I doubt we were welcome to begin with. Remember the wind at the beginning? I’m willing to bet that thing has been _following_ us from the moment we entered.”

“So naturally we leave now and you return alone later?”

“I never said that.” Loki protested.

“But you do intend to come back here.”

“…I might.” A pause. “Alright, I admit it: I was going to come back and map out the entirety of this place.”

“May it give you much enjoyment, particularly now that the device has ceased functioning.” Heimdall held it up. Loki took it, holding it gingerly with his other hand.

“It’s off? Oh no.” A click of a button. Nothing. Shaking the device. Again nothing. Fabulous. Now they had no easy way of preventing people of finding openings themselves. A few disorientating spells, knowing where to cast them, would have all but solved the issue.

“Weren’t you just complaining that it was too easy?”

“Don’t remind me.”

Suddenly, Loki was shocked aware of a presence at his shoulder. He knew that if he turned, he would see nothing. But its aura, its _aura_ overwhelmed him. Darkness: rotting, corrupting, ancient. He needed to get out of here.

“At least this time we may simply retrace our steps.”

“ _We_ may. I was going to conceal the entrances.” Light shivers ran down his spine as the words came out faster than they should have done. His breathing was quickening. It was _behind_ him.

“Perhaps we could transfer the data to the mainframe?”

Loki agreed quickly. “We could. Yes, we should. Do you know the way back?”

“Yes, my prince.” Heimdall was looking at him strangely – could he tell what was behind him?

“Good. I’ll meet you there. I have a pressing need.” Without waiting for a reply, Loki turned tail. Out of the flame’s flickering way, he broke into a run, summoning a glowing witchlight to light his way. He pelted through the straighter length that he first met, before clambering up several shafts, easily finding footing and hand holds in the sculpted metal.

He was certain that whatever was in here was following him. He could almost hear its _breathing_. _(Breathing in this dead, dead place. What have you disturbed Laufeyson, what mischief, what evil have you stirred up now?)_

His mad dash ended at the place he’d come from. Loki frantically searched for a way out, realising too late what a fool he was. He’d left Heimdall behind to save himself, but what if there _was_ no way out of here? Desperately searching, he spotted a lever and pulled it open. Fingers passed over his own, and it took all his willpower to complete the motion before snatching his hands back to his chest.

Light burst into the corridor. Loki looked up. Nothing. He turned towards the light to dive out. Hands pulled at his cape. He grabbed the material and pulled, struggling with the shadows. A moment later the resistance melted, leaving him free.

Loki slid under the doorway.

\-----------------------------------------

Breaking out into bright light left him feeling weak and disorientated. He wasn’t sure when the headache had started, but now it pulsed irregularly, leaving him pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes, his breathing slowly returning to its regular rhythm. Damn. He shouldn’t have left Heimdall.

They’d explored the regions of the ship closest to the bridge, but nothing further. And now he was trembling, despite the fact that he barely possessed any reason to. Whatever was out there had left him shaken up, had unpleasantly reminded him of a feeling he’d known but a single time before.

Once, long ago, when Loki’d been carelessly dipping into the branches of Yggdrasil during a slow, lazy summer afternoon, he had encountered something _wicked_. Wicked and old and mad. It had terrified him. Even now, he could recall nightmares surrounding that creature. That being had a name now: Hela. The monster in Hel. His sister. From the very instant Loki’s magic had touched upon her energy, he’d known it was wrong. And he had flinched back and slammed the doorway to the World Tree closed. This energy was worse; whilst one had been locked away, this one was free. Less powerful, yes. But free.

“That was something awful.” He spoke when he heard the door slide open again. He prayed it was Heimdall that had come out, and not the monster. A hand landed on his shoulder and he let himself relax against it.

“You do not need to go there again.” The Watcher sounded steady, which meant the monster hadn’t targeted _him_. What had Loki done to it?

He let out a long exhale. At first one of relief, and then to steady himself. “No, I will. But not without… some sort of protection. Runic, so it cannot be broken.”

“I leave it to you. Would you like company?” Company sounded good. But witnesses to his weakness did not.

Loki shook his head, opening his eyes. “I need my solitude. I worked with others all day today, and got barely anything done except being chased by something in a tunnel.”

“As you prefer it.”

They made their (unsteady) way to the bridge in silence, Loki playing the absentminded card whilst scanning the surroundings for any sign of activity. The ship was eerily empty, their footfalls echoing throughout the walkways. Looking into the space of the bridge itself, it appeared empty. A quick skim of his magic, and he opened up the desk with the hologram.

“If I plug this in, do you think I would be able to upload the data from this broken thing to the mainframe?”

“Try and turn the device on again first, it may have been tampered with only temporarily, despite the cracked screen.” The Watcher suggested.

“You try it; it doesn’t seem to like me.”

Heimdall went through the same steps Loki had, and in the end, it had to be concluded that it was not going to work. “Connect it to charge, it might be depleted.”

“You can sense just as well as I can that lack of power isn’t the problem.”

“It’s very old, at least attempt it, Loki.”

“See? Nothing. I’m plugging this in and if it doesn’t work I’ll get it looked it at the first station with a reputable computer specialist. I might ask Val, maybe she understands these nonsense creatures more than we do.”

“Somehow I doubt she had the capacity.”

“Worth a try.” Loki pried open a small latch and plugged in the corresponding wires from the mains switchboard. “Any sign of life? I’m getting nothing- oh there it is.” The hologram shifted, the corridors _finally_ showing up inlaid, glowing white. Loki barely took a moment to survey the look. “How do I save this now? I don’t want to depend on this,” He shook the device. “working.”

“That set of keys is what worked in saving the level of clearance to the access cards during the day.” Heimdall pointed to the set of buttons to the left of him.

“This’d better work.” Leaning over the desk, he typed in the set of commands – he wanted this _saved,_ and to the mainframe at that.

For a moment, it seemed like it was working. The lights indicating the progress of data blinked merrily at him. Then the white corridors flickered and disappeared. …It took a moment for it to sink in.

Loki stared blankly at the display. “It deleted itself. I plugged it in and the mainframe deleted it.”

“What are the chances the fault is ours?”

He answered absentmindedly, eyes scanning the small display which held a log of all recent actions. “Very slim, there is nothing indicating these keys delete anything.” He almost couldn’t believe they were gone. Oh wait, no, he _could_. Damn annoying ship computers. “I’ll disconnect it and try again.”

No success. Another attempt. This time it refused to even acknowledge anything was plugged in.

“So what now?”

“It seems the only course of action is to find the entrances manually. Will you be able to manage with the strain of concealing them yourself?”

Heimdall definitely knew of his energy problems.

“If I take a break from all other duties.”

“We will tell the king of the tunnels, but keep the haunting of the ship to ourselves. It has not, as of yet, caused any trouble, and I believe causing him additional worry over this would be unwise, unless further reason were to present itself.”

Something about this didn’t click quite right. Loki thought it through for a moment, then opened his mouth. “Heimdall, why did you tell me all this today? Why are you agreeing, despite what I would consider your better judgement, to keep this a secret from Thor, knowing he relies on you, despite your oaths to the Crown, despite all the wrongs I’ve done you?” There was a time before Heimdall replied, words chosen as carefully as Loki’s own.

“You may have chosen not to voice what plagues your mind, but your manner has always been tell-tale of the severity of your concern. If you have judged not to tell us, I will trust that you are capable of controlling the outcome of your fears.” No, no, no, no, no, had Heimdall learned _nothing_ of trusting him? The blood rushing through his ears rang louder than the Watcher’s next words as he forcefully smoothed over the expression that wanted to form. He couldn’t afford to look aghast, not if he actually wanted to keep the cube. (Keep the Stone within.) “If it is freedom to do what must be done that you need, you should be given it. Your mind has had moments where it has lapsed, more so recently than most, however it has always been true of you that you have done what is necessary unfailingly, even if none but yourself see the big picture.” New York? Did Heimdall know more than Loki wanted him to suspect?

“What precisely are you speaking of?” He asked slowly, rigid.

Heimdall’s golden gaze pierced through his heart. “I know not, but you do.”

Loki sighed, infinitely more terrified than relieved. “In that case, I had better retire. Tomorrow is bound to be eventful.”

“Try not to drink too much this evening in the Evening Saloon, if you do not mind my saying so, my prince.”

Loki turned his back to the stars. “For your information, I wasn’t planning on getting drunk.”

“I do not doubt that it is mostly unplanned.”

A terse moment of silence followed.

“Goodnight, Watcher.”

“See you on the morrow, Your Highness.”

“And Heimdall?”

“Yes, my prince?”

“Don’t hurry your way to sainthood.”

\-------------------------------------

Loki peered into the room. Bruce Banner was nominally present, sitting, slightly lost, on a couch, listening to Korg. He seemed to have a hard time comprehending that his conversation partner was made of living rock. Their eyes met for a split second, before the scientist quickly shifted his gaze away. How nice of him to offer a greeting.

The Kronan was speaking, sitting on the floor so he was roughly at eye level.

“And the Ark is an important cultural phenomenon signifying protection and salvation?”

“Yes and-“

“Like a turtle?”

“Excuse me?” Said Banner at the same time that Loki interjected: “You know what a turtle is?”

Korg turned enthusiastically towards him. “Hello there, Prince. How are you? Last time we talked you seemed to be in a bit of a hurry-”

“Hi. How do you know what turtles are?”

“Why, they’re our galaxy. Our big, massive, turtle, with its protective hard shell. Don’t you call your galaxy a turtle?” Well, that was something refreshingly new. In the strict absence of worldly comforts, Loki would make do with philosophical ones instead. (You literally sleep in a full-sized queen bed in softened, ironed, and washed sheets.)(My old bed was a kings.)(Spoiled brat.)

“No, we do not.”

“We call ours the Milky Way.”

“Is it fed by a cow of cosmic proportions?”

Banner seemed to be getting repeatedly caught off-guard by Korg’s ideas. He’d get used to it. “No, it- it just reminded people of milk strewn across the sky, because from Earth most of what we can see of our galaxy is a white band in the sky. So, milk.”

“What a waste. Have you found a way to drink it?”

“It’s not real mil- Do you believe your galaxy is an actual turtle?” _Probably. For all that you’ll fail to convince him otherwise, it might as well be._ Loki leant back to watch this.

“Of course. Calling it a turtle would make no sense otherwise.”

“Uh-“

“It’s a hypothetical turtle. Of the mind. It is our home, since we are within its shell. Like your story Ark is a home and protection from danger.”

“That’s a nice way of putting it.”

“Is she a part of this conversation?” Loki jerked his thumb at Val, who hadn’t moved since he’d come in.

“She has very actively stared at the wall for the last three hours.” Korg told him cheerfully. “An integral part of our atmosphere.”

“I can tell.” Loki eyed Val again, an idea forming in his mind as he remembered a certain bruise from that morning. “Stay quiet and watch this.”

Steeling his resolve, he moved behind her. No movement. For a second, he considered the possibility that she might be dead, but her chest had been rising and falling a moment before, and he had yet to see someone die of alcohol poisoning still in their chair at the bar.

Loki extended a hand as he willed the change through. The air frizzled and stung as paleness shifted slowly to blue, and he waited only until the fingers – _his_ fingers – were the dreaded colour to summon the ice.

“Ah!” Val’s back snapped upright faster that the barstool was designed to handle. Loki took a quick step back, tucking his hand behind his back, as it tipped back and crashed onto the ground, leaving her staring up at him, eyes wide.

_“What in the Nine was that?”_

“ _That_ was for pinching me.” He replied, grinning.

“I pinched you? I’m not surprised.” Val grumbled from the floor. “Get me up.”

“What do I get?”

“You retain the ability to father children.”

“And how would you go about stopping me from there? Try again.”

“For fuck’s sake, Loki.”

“Better. That is a prize I like more.”

“I did not-“ She cut off, glaring. “Do you want a feud? Because if you want one-“

Loki held the other hand out. “Come on.” The blue was refusing to fade.

Val took it, not bothering to dust herself off, he noticed with not a small amount of reserve. She almost immediately noticed he was keeping one hand behind his back.

“Hey what’s–?”

_Change, change, change, change, please change_.

Loki stopped himself from breathing a sigh of relief as the hand was pulled forward pink. For a moment, it had seemed like the blue would finally refuse to relinquish control of the vessel back to the pale skin that coloured his falsified nature.

“Did you summon ice? Did you seriously just summon ice?”

“Aren’t you glad I didn’t drop it down your shirt? Now that would have been _interesting_ -“

“That’s strange; I didn’t feel the spell.” Was the Valkyrie a spellcaster? Loki hadn’t thought… anything was possible he supposed. But she didn’t act like a wielder of magic. No, and if she had been a Valkyrie on top of a mage, she would have been well and thoroughly trained. She didn’t have the training, didn’t move the way they moved. Still... there was something worth investigating.

“You weren’t exactly into it.” He offered.

“…I guess I wasn’t.”

“Do have any idea how long you were staring at that wall?”

“Ummm, twenty minutes?”

“Three hours.” Twenty minutes was the time he’d spent in the tunnels. He was sure of it.

“ _Three?_ I could _swear_ -“

“That it was shorter?” She didn’t like something in his tone. Perhaps it sounded like he was mocking her. He cut her off before she had a chance to reply. “Me too.”

“Really?” She shook her head a moment later. “No, that’s a stupid question-“

“Really.”

“Three hours passed.” Banner said from his seat. “Korg and I spent it getting to know each other.”

“Great news! We shall hold a vote on what the ship will be called!”

“Perfect. We will finally christen it something less mind numbingly stupid.”

“We have only one name.” Banner pointed out.

“They can decide whether or not they like it. If they do not, once the significance has been explained, we can always come up with something else.”

Loki decided to leave them to it.

“Where’s Thor?”

“His room.”

“How long has he been there? I thought we were meeting here after… work. I dislike calling this work, sounds very mundane. Is ‘completing our duties’ better or worse?”

“Depends on how stuck up you want to sound, suits _you_ perfectly. He excused himself right after that assembly he called. No idea what he wanted to do, maybe talking about dead people upset him?”

Loki hadn’t heard the call for the assembly. That was... impossible to say the least. Korg had said that Val’d been staring at the wall for three hours, and Banner hadn’t corrected him. But he could swear he’d been in the tunnels only twenty minutes. Heimdall had said he’d wanted to leave, not that they’d been in there too long. He needed to consult with the Watcher tomorrow – something was seriously wrong. He never lost track of time like _this_. Whatever was hiding in those spaces must have been much more powerful than he’d originally thought. Perhaps they would need to tell Thor after all.

“He talked about dead people?”

“As soon as we have time apparently we are commemorating the dead. I say the quicker we can get that out of the way the better; everyone’s still hanging onto ghosts from their imagination.” Hm, that would explain the dour mood. Most Asgardians Loki had ever known would be too stubborn to move on without the proper rites being said in their name. It was suspicious, almost curious, that he didn’t see any himself.

“Don’t you believe that souls not put to rest haunt the living?”

“I don’t know what to believe. This is your arena, not mine.”

“You’re still hung over ghosts from a millennia ago. Were you at a ceremony to put them to rest?” He still saw his mother, standing over him as he woke. She had especially liked appearing on Sakaar, as if his own shame hadn’t caught up to him the instant he’d espied Thor.

Val glared at him. “I’ve moved on.”

Loki eyed the bottle she was now clutching. “Seeing as you still need that, I disagree.”

“I drink because I like alcohol.”

“If you’re going to lie about it, you might as well mention that you’ve developed alcoholism and cannot function without the bloody bottles, at least _try_ and sound authentic.”

“I am very authentic.”

“And that is good alcohol and not swill.”

Val glanced at her bottle reproachingly. “It’s not _bad_.”

“You need mead, or _something_ to remind you what true class tastes like.”

“You and your class can fuck off, do I look like I care?”

“I was just about going. Make sure Banner can get to his room, and if you reconsider your stance on quality of drink, come see me.”

“I won’t.”

Loki shrugged as he headed for the exit. “Your problem entirely.”

\------------------------------------------

[Hello Reader, now would be a good time to take a short break and clear your head if it’s feeling a bit fuzzy or tired so you can enjoy this fully conscious.]

Entering his brother’s room uninvited, Loki caught Thor bent over the manifests. Closing the door, he crept forward, peering over Thor’s shoulder to find him urgently scanning the lines of names, ages, professions. A numbing cold spread through his heart as it dawned on him what he was looking for.

“You won’t find them there.” Loki told him quietly.

Thor started and turned, eye taking a moment to focus on him. “I wasn’t-“

“You were.” Loki turned and seated himself on the desk, legs dangling. Thor’s lost gaze followed him for a moment, then went back to the hastily secured sheets of paper. Loki rolled his eyes, knowing that Thor wouldn’t see him do it.

“They’re dead, Thor. You won’t find them. Their names aren’t on those lists.”

Thor swallowed and looked up. “Volstagg’s family-“

“ _Isn’t listed_. You know they aren’t in those pages. If they were here, you would know. I would know. They would have come to you. They’re dead.”

“But-“

“‘They cannot be’? ‘It isn’t fair’? ‘They might have survived’? Don’t kid yourself Thor; you won’t be doing yourself any favours.”

“ _Loki_ ,” Thor sounded stricken. “I don’t understand how-“ A pause. “I don’t-“ Evidently the words weren’t destined to come out.

“Simple. Hela found them at their posts, and slaughtered them in their places.”

“Can you be any more _blasé_ about the ends of my friends?!” Thor burst out, Loki finally pushing his patience too far.

“I am telling you the truth. You need to accept how they died, not only that they did: pointlessly.”

Lightning flared from his brother. “The deaths of my friends weren’t _pointless_!”

“The deaths of _many_ are pointless! Tell me, what was the _point_ of our mother dying? What was the _point_ of our people’s deaths? What was the _point_ of the Fall of the Valkyries, when they were killed off in droves in less than ten minutes, the last one left alive not because Hela was _incapable_ but only so she could _suffer_? What is the point in _any of it_?”

This time Thor blinked. “They were what?”

“I saw it her mind. Brunnhilde’s. She said I’d already been in her head; now you know why. I drudged up the memories to weaken her.” As he silently dared his brother to question his actions, Loki held his gaze unblinkingly. To his disapproval, it was Thor that dropped it first.

“Why compare the past to the present?”

“No matter what time it happened, they are just as gone all the same.”

A spark lighted again. Mania - almost. Now was a really bad time to remember how afraid he was of Thor's power. “But Loki, you do not understand, they _cannot_ be-“ _Dead_.

“But they _are_ , Thor, they are. And they always will be.” His voice softened. For Thor, he could say this. “They’re not coming back; they won’t show up uninvited in your room, they won’t feast with you in great halls, they will no longer watch your back in battle. They’re _dead_ , brother. As dead as Mother, as dead as Father, and as dead as I hope Hela is. You _have_ to let them _go_.” _Let them go and learn to live, like I have. You have always been stronger than I. (Did you ever truly let him go, Loki?)_

This time, it seemed to sink into Thor.

“All our friends are dead.” His voice was dull with shock, as if he was only hearing the news now. _Your friends_ , Loki thought. But he didn’t correct Thor. Let him think he wasn’t alone in his grief, at least now, when it did no harm.

“I’m sorry.” Thor didn’t look up and Loki was glad. Because he wasn’t nearly as sorry as he sounded. He was empty, the knowledge was cold, he could feel neither zest nor pain. He had never cared for the Warriors Three and Sif the way Thor had. And they had never cared for him. It had always been the way things had been. Loki wondered why people said so many great things about the dead, coming up with stories and anecdotes illustrating some great link with the deceased they’d never had. He had always found it abominable. Lies, lies, and more lies. Despicable were the beings that did it. No wonder he fed off their energy – or so the myths said.

It wasn’t like he’d wanted them dead, Loki thought as he watched Thor’s head sink to the polished surface of the table, papers slowly pushed away. It was just that, well, he didn’t particularly care. And he could recognise that this was more convenient for him than any other outcome. Just think of how quickly the Warriors Three would have seized upon the Valkyrie, how quickly they’d have taken the positions at Thor’s right hand, how he’d be left behind, again, alone amongst a sea of hate. And now he had Thor, all to his own. It was near perfect. Sif would question his motives a lot more than Thor ever had or ever would, he’d have to ward the others off, keep more people in the dark, and worst of all – Loki knew he’d be expendable. And now he was anything but.

He was anything but expendable as his brother broke apart beside him. Loki didn’t like Thor’s pain. The tears that took their time to come, and which then refused to leave burned his heart worse than acid. But he relished being there to see it. He savoured the feeling, that modicum of power as Thor’s shoulders shook under the strain and he laid a hand on them, knowing that the contact only _he_ could give helped. He liked being the one able to do something about it. Of course, this would only be the first wave. Thor was only processing now what was easiest to swallow. Then he’d remember Odin, Odin who Thor loved, and who Loki had despised and yet desperately looked up to all the same. Odin whom Loki’d also loved. Who Loki still loved. But Loki was better at this than Thor; Loki didn’t break down like Thor did. No, not in the same way at all. And when he’d bent his heart over Odin, he’d realise that _Asgard_ was gone. That was when the storm would break loose.

Bold of Loki to assume he wouldn’t miss his brother’s friends, or Odin, or Asgard. But Loki had always been bold. If not in the stupid way Thor was, then in doing exactly the opposite of what was expected of him, on purpose, just to reap the hatred and be able to say he stood above it. But that part had only come later, when Loki’d realised that was the only way he could continue living. Everything else had hurt too deep by then. It was just the way things had been.

Until now.

New beginnings, new people, new friends. Better friends. Ones that didn’t use him. Ones that he couldn’t use so easily. Thor would grieve, but he didn’t have Loki’s foresight, of how great things could be. And if there was an inkling of guilt, in that empty space within him, Loki could always pretend he couldn’t feel it. Because lying was what he’d always done. And he did it _brilliantly_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Common is the usual way of referring to the text of the Allspeak, even if it is know by other names, ironically enough. It is a set of enchanted runes, much like the language itself, and is designed as to be as accessible as possible to most visual and auditory organs. They can be learned, or the meaning can be gauged through the influence of the spellwork or electronic implants. It is recommended to learn Allspeak, rather than rely on others’ knowledge of it, as it reduces the chances of being stranded without the ability to communicate.
> 
> I know I suck at writing spooky things, hopefully I will improve over time. After all, nothing gets better if you don't practise!
> 
> I've also just realised I've been imagining the ship a lot bigger than it actually is. Like, a _lot_ bigger. There is no way there are so many things on this ship. But nevermind, we have begun this way and this way it will stay. Plus this ship came from Sakaar - what's to say the super powerful, immortal being known as the Grandmaster didn't _change things up a bit?_ And anyway, as the God of this universe here, I have more power than any being existing within it. So what I say goes. Capeesh, reality within this universe? Good.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, see you next chapter, whenever that may be.
> 
> Stay safe!


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